His Boys
by Prefect Rachel
Summary: Suddenly, Mac is up to his ears in family, and the strange part is, he's loving every second. A Sam Martinez reintroduction.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: No infringement of copyright intended. All characters originated with CSI: NY_

_Disclaimer 2: Any similarities to the work of notesofwimsey are intentional, as this is corroboration, of sorts. This story takes place approximately a year after __Journey's End__ (we think). Thanks wimsey!_

Chapter 1

A Beautiful Boy

Mac straightened his tie as he walked up the steps, cleaning his shoes carefully on the welcome mat outside. Rain in New York might not be like rain in Bozeman, with all the mud and muck of the spring run-off running down the gutters, but it wasn't neat and tidy, either. He felt self-conscious, which was ridiculous; he'd been doing this for over a year. Could it have only been so long? So much had happened. His two "kids," Danny and Lindsay, had finally realized the potentiality of a relationship and gone for it, he'd found Reed, or Reed had found him, and Peyton was in his life.

_All in all, a good year's haul, I think._ He smiled and knocked briskly on the door. It opened immediately. He smiled down at the curly-haired little boy.

"Hiya Mac!" Sam said excitedly, grinning.

"Hey, when did you lose a tooth, Sam?" Mac was a little surprised at how quickly he was growing up. He ignored the brief flicker of pain at the thought that as much as Claire had wanted another child, wanted a child with him, they'd never gotten around to it.

"Three days ago. I lost it eating spaghetti! It was pretty funny, but it kinda hurt. Thee?" Sam said, sticking his fingers in his mouth to show his friend. "Thith ith my gig goy toot, ad th'oodle guh shtuck ateen th'ig toot adittl toot, an Ib'it dan" he pulled his fingers out of his mouth, wiping them on the seat of his jeans, "and it just knocked the other tooth out." He grinned again, showing it off.

"Sam? Who is it?" Elena stuck her head around the corner of the hallway. "Detective, hello! Sam, why didn't you let him in properly?"

"It was my fault, Elena," Mac smiled, "I asked about his tooth."

"Ah, the infamous tooth story," Elena laughed. "Would you like to come in now, Mac?"

"Well, I think it's really up to Sam. Do you want to go now, or can it wait for me to have coffee with your mom?" Sam considered for a moment, and then nodded.

"It can wait, Mac." Mac smiled again as he tousled the boys' already tangled curls.

"Okay, so can I come in, then?"

"Oh, yeah," Sam giggled, moving out of the way for Mac to enter the house. Mac carefully took his shoes off.

Sam grabbed his hand and led him to the kitchen, although Mac had been through there a dozen times. Mac smiled and let himself be enthusiastically dragged along. The change in Sam was amazing, truly. For a little boy who'd been close-mouthed and terrified of speaking out of turn, he'd become effervescent in the past few months. Mac heard endless stories about Mrs. Richardson, his second grade teacher, and about Jack Thomas, his best friend.

After they'd reached the kitchen, Mac leaned down to look at the little boy in front of him. "You know what I forgot, Sam?"

Sam looked at him, puzzled, tilting his head to the side.

"I forgot to give you your present." Mac pulled an old Batman comic from his jacket pocket, handing it to the little boy. "This was my favourite superhero when I was younger. I found this comic book lying around, and I thought I might pass it on to you."

Sam took the book, holding it reverently, then threw his arms around Mac's waist in a hard hug. "Thank you," he said simply, withdrawing almost as quickly as he'd hugged his older friend.

"You're welcome. How about you go read it in the living room while I chat with your mom? We have a little while before we have to leave for the movies."

"Okay. Don't leave without me."

Mac smiled, "How could I leave without my favourite movie buddy?" Sam hugged him again and dashed out of the room.

Elena smiled. "This one does have words in it, doesn't it?" she chided gently.

"Mostly pow and bang. But there's some fun words like justice, revenge, and maybe a little bit of love, too," Mac smiled back. She laughed, and reached into the cupboard to grab a couple of mugs. The stiff man never ceased to amaze her with his jokes and humour. For an older guy who'd seen a few things no one should have seen, he was sharp.

She poured him a mug of hot, strong coffee, handing it to him with the sugar bowl and a teaspoon. He sat at the kitchen table, taking up less space than she always expected him to. She watched him measure two carefully level spoonfuls into his coffee before asking, "How are you, Mac? You look tired."

"I'm fine, Elena. Lots of stuff to do at work, but that's not unusual. How are you? And José? Sam looks good, he's starting to grow. I'll need to get him a new t-shirt soon."

"I'm very well, thank you. Things are crazy, but they always are. José's become head of maintenance at the museum, which is good. He loves it there, and so does Sam. I thought that Sam wouldn't like to spend so much time there after…" her words caught in her throat, but she cleared it bravely, "after what happened last year."

"I know. He surprises me, too. He's a brave kid. Braver than most I've met, I'll give him that." Mac took a long sip of coffee. "Mmm… exactly what I needed, thank you, Elena."

"He's still loving school, of course. The girls are starting to notice him, I think. He still loves science; I think you've converted him, Detective. He's reading like a fiend, too. Anything he can find. He keeps drawing people, too. He says he's practicing, he wants to be an artist for the police department when he grows up. He hates math, but we're working on it. Oh, and Carolyn contacted us a few weeks ago," Elena finished, turning away and busying herself with an unimportant task.

"What? That's a violation of the injunction."

"I know. I hung up as soon as she said who she was. It shook me up a little, I won't mind telling you." She tried to hide the shaking of her hands by wiping down the immaculately clean counter-top.

Mac stood, reaching over and taking Elena's soapy hands in his own. "Elena, I promise you that she will never take Sam away from you. You are a better parent than she could ever be, and I know that." He allowed a sly smile to creep across his face.

"I know, Mac. Thank you."

He dropped her hands the instant his confession was over, wrapping them around his mug of coffee and sitting down again.

_Carolyn had called them?_ The mere thought made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. She was so far out of her league. He'd thought he'd made that clear last year.

Seeing Mac lost in his thoughts, Elena quietly finished cleaning the kitchen.

CSI: NY-CSI: NY-CSI: NY

The hearing had been smaller than Mac anticipated. The Astors were a well-known family, and not just to the educated museum-goers. The news of Ceci's death had been released only a few weeks before the custody hearing involving Sam was presented.

Mac smiled reassuringly at the little boy, in his pressed shirt and dress pants, his face scrubbed clean and his hair gelled to lie flat. The end of his hair were already starting to curl again; no gel could completely tame it. Sam waved at him gravely, then turned to sit between his parents, his feet sticking straight off the edge of the bench.

Mac glared through the whole of Carolyn's impassioned speech, about how she'd not had access to Sam for five years. She spoke of how her older sister had browbeaten her into giving him up, and that now her boyfriend was away again (Mac noticed she didn't say "back in jail, this time for second degree murder"). She was without her sister, she was all alone, and she'd always loved the adorable little boy, and was proud of him.

Mac was disgusted by her tears, barely masking the greediness on her face as she looked at the beautiful child.

The next to take the stand was José Martinez. He handled himself well, always coming back to the decision made by him and Elena to affirm her American status before adopting Sam properly. There was no mask on his face when he spoke of his son, proudly and defiantly pointing out that he'd been integral in the investigation of his aunt's death, a death that Carolyn's meddling had caused.

Mac took the stand shortly afterwards. He answered each question clearly and concisely, though to this day he still didn't know exactly what he was asked. He was cut to the quick by the look of hope on Sam's face, mirroring the look on the faces of his parents. More than anything, he wanted to help this little boy.

He spoke with disdain over Carolyn's insistence that she could better take care of the child, returning to the admission that she'd never seen him before, and was more concerned in his waking up to confess to the murder of her sister than his well-being. He spoke with rising passion about the love and support of Elena and José in that difficult time, encouraging those listening to look at how healthily the young boy had dealt with his trauma.

Elena had spoken with surprising eloquence about her connection with Sam, her desire to give him a life he deserved, her firm belief she could be the mother he needed. Mac had little doubt about that.

Sam had looked scared when the female judge had asked him to join her in her chambers, but after a look at Mac's reassuring smile, he swallowed and nodded. The judge had reached down to take his hand as she led him to the room behind her bench, and Sam had straightened his shoulders, ready to defend himself. Again.

Mac had never asked the boy what the judge had asked him. He didn't want the child to think he was being pressured into revealing what he'd said. Mac assumed that Sam had answered the same questions kids always had to in those situations. "Who do you want to be with?" "Who takes care of you the most?" "Who do you feel safe with?"

The ruling, of course, had gone to the Martinez. How could it not? No one was going to buy the tears of a spoiled, irresponsible, trust-fund baby. Carolyn had been publicly devastated, but Mac thought she'd get over it sooner rather than later, and told her directly to stop fretting over it.

"Carolyn," he called, seeing her dashing in disgrace from the courtroom. She turned, her face becoming a mask of cold fury upon seeing him.

"Yes, Detective?" she said, her voice bitingly icy.

"You haven't taken my advice to this point, but I'm willing to try again if you'll listen to me," he said, and continued before she could say anything. "My suggestion to you is that you start seeing someone without a drug problem and who is not likely to become dangerous. Sam is out of your reach now, but perhaps a little domesticity wouldn't be amiss for you. Don't forget that I will be checking up on him as often as I have the time, and that hare-brained kidnapping attempts are not good ones." He smiled chillingly, and walked past her out of the courtroom.

CSI: NY-CSI: NY-CSI: NY

He had kept his promise. He had visited Sam at least once every two weeks since the hearing. José and Elena had named him Sam's godfather at Sam's recent baptism, and he had been present for the boy's seventh birthday party. He'd seen more children's movies in the past year than he had in probably his lifetime. He had worked hard at this relationship with the little boy, and he wasn't planning on giving it up. He'd even introduced Sam to Reed, wanting to share both his families. He had a picture in his living room, beside the picture taken of him and Reed in Central Park, of the three of them standing in front of the doors to FAO Schwartz. Sam had taken to Reed, and also to Natalie Chance, Reed's girlfriend.

It didn't matter what it would take. Sam was in Mac's life, and he was staying there. No matter what.

CSI: NY-CSI: NY-CSI: NY

"Mac?" a pair of huge brown eyes blinked up at him.

"Sorry, yes, Sam?"

"Are you done your coffee?"

"Just give me another five minutes, okay, kiddo?"

Sam nodded and scurried out of the room again.

"Sorry, Elena. I was trying to think of what she might be up to. Carolyn."

"Always the investigator, Detective. It's all right, I understand. Besides, the number of things you've done for this family… I think I can let you zone out a time or two."

He smiled tightly, draining his coffee mug and getting up to rinse it out in the sink.

"Thank you for the coffee. Sam and I will be back before long. I think this one is a short movie."

"Thank you, Mac. Just have him home in time for bed."

"Will do, I promise." He strolled into the living room. "Ready to go, kid?" Sam looked up, eyes shining, nodded and jumped down off the couch.

"Don't forget your coat," Elena called from the kitchen. "And come and give me a kiss!"

"Okay," Sam ran into the kitchen, and swiped his coat off the floor in front of the door on his way back. "Ready," he said, taking hold of Mac's hand.

"Good. Let's go."

_A/N: A translation of 'tooth talk,' if necessary: "See? This is my big boy tooth, and the noodle got stuck between the big tooth and the little tooth and I bit down."_

_Just in case anyone is curious: yes, I did stick my fingers in my mouth and then wrote what it sounded like ;)_


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: No infringement of copyright intended. All characters originated with CSI: NY_

_A/N: I happily respond to any and all reviews, and I love to hear what people think. Please, leave me a note._

Chapter 2

Little Boy Games

"Mac. Mac?" Stella waved her hand obnoxiously in front of his eyes. "Are you even listening?"

"Sorry," he blinked. "What did you say?" They were sitting in his office, talking out a case, but Mac had drifted out of focus for a second, considering something.

"I said we've got the trace back from the vic's shirt. It's toothpaste, not semen. We're hoping that Adam can pull something out of it as far as DNA goes. If we're really lucky, it won't come back to her."

Mac nodded. "Any sign of the murder weapon?"

Stella frowned. "Not yet. Hawkes is still taking the place apart, though."

"He is good at that. No devastated parents for him to talk to, though, right? He knows he's good at it, but it hurts him to have to do it."

"No, her parents don't seem to be a big part of her life." Stella covered the flicker of pain in her eyes. She understood how it felt to be abandoned like that. Luckily, Stella hadn't ended up in a dead-end alleyway with her throat slit and evidence of rape. Instead, she'd found a better family than she could had hoped for in her team. _And in Don._

"We haven't found them yet?" Mac furrowed his brow. "That's unusual. Did we get a definite age off her?"

"Sid thought between 24 and 28. Probably closer to the younger end of the scale, but she's had some work done. Nose, brow-lift. That kind of thing."

"She has a name?"

"Meagan Barker. Says her student ID, but she was beaten badly enough that there's no way to know if it's her face."

"Hmm. All right. I'll see what I can get off the rest of the clothes." Stella nodded, turning to go.

"Stell?" She turned back. "Do you know when the picnic in the park is? The boys in blue do?"

She looked at him curiously, "It starts around 12:30, I think."

"On Saturday, right?"

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

"I promised to bring someone," Mac answered, looking a little uncomfortable.

"Peyton?"

Mac shook his head. "No, I just promised to go with her. I had to cancel a play-date and now I have to make it up to him."

Stella smiled. "I might have to come to watch you playing with Sam, then. I can't quite picture it, you know."

"Just wait. And don't tell the others. I want to surprise them."

"Okay," she left the room with a grin.

CSI: NY-CSI: NY-CSI: NY

Mac grimaced as he walked down the hallway. He knew he was going to have some explaining to do, but hopefully it was worth it.

"What do you have for me, Lindsay?" he asked, stepping into the lab.

"Well," she said, striking her 'excited to be giving information' pose. "Danny and I found arterial blood spatter on the wall in front of our vic, but, as you know, he was shot. Sid's primary analysis suggests he could have been shot across the throat, tearing his carotid artery. Messer's doing some research on what kind of gun would be needed to do that. Bloody fingerprints indicate that someone else was bleeding in that room, the DNA doesn't match, and the fingerprints don't belong to our vic, either. So far, no hits on the DNA, but we're running the fingerprints through AFIS. The tox screen came back, tons of marijuana, probably enough to knock him out, but no hits on anything else in him."

"Sounds like you've a few things to go on. How's trace on the apartment?"

"We found some odd fibers inside the mouth; we're still waiting on tests."

"Okay," Mac smiled, "make sure you've got tons of stuff for Adam, he's actually running on schedule for once."

Lindsay smiled back. "We'll be sure to keep him hopping, sir."

He ignored that. "Are you and Danny going to the picnic this weekend?"

"Yes, actually. Flack bullied us into it. He's good at bullying. He knew as soon as he convinced me, he had Danny cornered." Lindsay's eyes softened as she spoke of Danny.

"Well, I'll see you there." Mac smiled again as he left the room.

CSI: NY-CSI: NY-CSI: NY

"Danny?" Lindsay asked later in the break room.

"Yeah, Montana?" Although she'd been more than annoyed by the nickname at the outset, it was now his own peculiar form of endearment for her. Everything was all right as long as he was calling her Montana.

"Has Mac ever been to one of the family picnics?"

"Nah, you know how he is, separating work and social life. Well, trying to, anyway." He smiled, thinking of Peyton breaking down the resistance of his boss.

"Hmm." Lindsay cocked her head to the side.

"I know that look," Danny teased, resting his hands lightly on her hips to pull her closer. "What're you investigatin' now, Montana?"

"He said he'd be there."

"Could be that Peyton's draggin' him like you're draggin' me," Danny suggested archly.

"I don't think so. He looked excited to be going."

"Why don't we wait and find out, then, babe? I'll see you later, unless you get some test results back" Danny kissed her quickly, tasting of coffee and breath mints, then left to go back to his scrutiny of the clothes found on the victim at the crime scene.

Lindsay watched him walk away, smiling to herself. She knew their relationship wasn't ironed out yet, but he was making her happy. That's all that mattered.

CSI: NY-CSI: NY-CSI: NY

Mac drummed his fingers on the steering wheel of his truck as he waited for the radio station to pick up. He flipped the visor on the driver's side down, checking his tie in the mirror, rubbing his hand over his mouth. He still got a little nervous every time he went to pick up Peyton, mostly because he wasn't completely positive she was going to be there every time. He drove mechanically to her house, wondering if he was doing the right thing by reintroducing Sam to the team this early in the game. He shook his head, _not that early, Mac. You can't keep him all to yourself. Besides, he needs a few more adults he can trust._ He knew that Sam still had trust issues, hardly unusual for a young boy who'd heard Stewart tell him he was his father and then watching the older man kill his aunt. He also knew that Sam wasn't very good in crowds, that too many voices worried him.

Mac shook off his worries as he buzzed Peyton's apartment.

"Hello?" the static-y voice said.

"Peyton. It's me. Let me in?"

She didn't bother to answer, just buzzed the door.

He walked quickly up the stairs to the small apartment, tapping politely at the door. Peyton let him in in a bustle of activity.

"Hello, Mac," she kissed him chastely and turned to finish the four or five chores she'd set herself to do before he arrived. Somehow, Peyton always had something she was doing. She was never behind, never running late; just always set too much to do before he arrived.

"Anything I can do?" Mac smiled.

"Just stand there and don't move for" she glanced at the timer, "two and a half minutes."

"How much food are you bringing, Peyton?" Mac's smile crept into his voice.

"Dessert. Mostly," she smiled back.

"Well, give me things to take to the car if you've more than one trip," Mac said, only half-joking. "He's a seven year old, not a regiment."

"Oh, Detective Taylor, how little you know children. When it comes to dessert, he'll be able to eat as much as a regiment."

"Touché. I like that colour on you, by the way." She was wearing a dark blue blouse, which brought out the startling colour of her eyes.

"Thank you," the compliment earned him another kiss, before she thrust a cheap plastic container full of brownies into his hand. "Ready?"

He nodded, holding the door open for her.

Sam was buoyant as Mac knocked on the door. He was wearing the CSI baseball hat Mac had given him last year, and looked ready for some fun. He greeted Peyton seriously, accepting the kiss on his cheek and returning it. He'd been for supper with Mac and Peyton a time or two, and they'd also gone to the park together a couple of times.

"Ready, Sam?"

He nodded enthusiastically.

"May I make a suggestion before we go, Sam?" Peyton smiled at the excited little boy. "Our Danny knows more about baseball than anyone in the world. If you bring your glove he might play with you." Mac had bought him a glove for his birthday a few months ago, but she knew he hadn't had much time to play with it.

Sam smiled, his eyes lighting up, and ran to his room to grab his glove.

Mac spoke with Elena for a moment or two, promising to keep an eye on her son, and to have him home before bedtime, as always. By the time he had finished talking to her; both Peyton and Sam were waiting in the car for him, eager to get started.

"Off to the park, then? You buckled properly?"

"Yes!" Sam shouted jubilantly. He'd been waiting for this particular day for weeks now, it had been rescheduled twice already, and after all the stories Mac had told him about the team, he couldn't decide whom he was most excited to meet.

Mac turned up the radio and rolled down the windows. Here he was, with his little family, and just for a moment, he couldn't think of how he could be happier. He glanced in the rear-view mirror at the little boy, barely able to sit still, his eyes shining under the enormous baseball cap he was wearing; his polished new baseball nestled in his squeaky leather glove. Sharing a glimpse with Peyton, he grinned.

If only it could stay like this forever.


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: No infringement of copyright intended. All characters originatedwith CSI: NY._

Chapter 3

Boys in Blue

Sam leaped out of the car almost before Mac had turned off the ignition. He was impatient for the fun promised in the word 'picnic,' so he stood, fidgeting slightly, as Mac and Peyton grabbed the things they needed from the car, and took Peyton's hand when she offered it. It wasn't a long walk to the picnic, by some miracle of God Mac had been able to get a parking spot quite close.

Sam looked around with wide eyes at the hundreds of people milling around the Children's Glade in Central Park. The grand opening had been only a couple of weeks ago, but already the small clearing was full of people. It couldn't have come at a better time for the NYPD, who had actually rescheduled the whole event to scope out the new place.

"You ready, Sam?" Sam jumped a little, Mac had surprised him.

"Yes. I think so." Mac reached down to take Sam's small hand in his, and pointed to the mosquito-netted tent located a short walk away, luckily not through the masses of people swarming around the barbeques like gannets. "That's my team over there. Do you see them?"

Sam nodded, and tugged on Mac's hand. "Come on. I want to meet them again." During the case he'd had brief encounters with all the CSI, but he admitted to Mac that he didn't remember much about them. "Just that the lady with curly hair was nice, and pretty," he'd said, his small face screwed up in concentration.

Mac waited for Peyton to catch up with them, then led the way to the CSI tent. Sam skipped along beside him, drinking in the atmosphere. The best part about a get-together of police officers was that everyone there felt completely safe.

"Lindsay. Danny," Mac said, greeting them both with a nod of his head. "This is Sam."

Sam looked up at them both, trying to remember everything Mac had told him about these two. "Pleased to meet you," he said, taking his hand from Mac's and holding it out to them. Mac smiled, watching Lindsay's heart melt at the sight of the adorable kid.

"I'm very glad to meet you again, too, Sam. I didn't know you were coming." Lindsay said, reaching down to shake the little boy's hand. The grin he gave her was pure mischief.

"I made Mac promise to bring me," he said conspiratorially. "Lucky Peyton wanted to go too. Mac will do anything for her." He spoke in the completely unself-conscious way that all little boys do, embarrassing those around them without realizing it. Mac had a slight pink tinge to his cheeks when Lindsay glanced up at him, eyes dancing.

Lindsay laughed, kissing the little boy's cheek impulsively. "Definitely lucky."

"Hey Sam. You play ball?" Danny asked, noticing the squeaky-clean new glove.

Sam nodded. "Not very well. My dad doesn't play it, and I'm too small at school."

"Too small?" Danny smiled, "Boy, you'd be surprised what you can do when you're small. I was the best ball player in my school when I was only a little bigger than you are. You wanna play?"

Sam nodded again, his eyes lighting up. "Peyton said you were the best ball player in the world," Lindsay heard the boy say as Danny took his hand to lead him away.

"He is totally adorable," she said, turning to Mac. She smacked him lightly on the arm, "Why haven't you shared him with us yet?"

"I'm not sure," Mac said, smiling teasingly. "If I'd known I'd be the subject of police brutality, I'd have shared him sooner." He rubbed his arm theatrically.

"Sorry, sir," Lindsay apologized quickly, flushing even as a sneaky smile spread across her lips.

"I'm starving," Mac said suddenly. "Where's all this food supposed to be?"

Lindsay gestured into the tent. "We stole some about fifteen minutes before you showed up. There are a couple of burgers left, I think. Plus all the food that the team brought. I hope you like pizza."

"Who brings pizza to a barbeque?" Mac teased.

"Danny. Flack. Stella. Everyone who didn't have time to bring anything else. I brought some buffalo burgers and jerky. Oh, and Adam brought beer. I think he's going to share it, but I'm not sure."

"Buffalo?" Peyton asked.

"Buffalo has a third of the fat and less cholesterol than skinless chicken."

"Really."

"Yes, it tastes better than beef, too. Richer. It takes the flavouring much better."

"Huh," interjected Mac, "well, you learn something new everyday, don't you? No bugs, Lindsay?"

Lindsay flushed slowly, grimacing. _Someday. Someday they'll all get over that. I might just die of shock._

"Lead on to the buffalo meat, Lindsay, I'd like to try some," Mac said. She smiled and gestured for him to follow her.

CSI: NY-CSI: NY-CSI: NY

Stella sat watching Danny play with Sam. For being the youngest of only two, he was very good with kids. He was patiently explaining to Sam how to hold the bat properly; apparently, Danny had brought his own in the hope that someone would play with him. Sam's small face was screwed up in concentration as he tried to make sense of how Danny was explaining it.

"Show me," he commanded finally, handing Danny the bat.

"See, you hafta ground yourself first, like you're makin' sure no one can push you over," Danny demonstrated, his feet shoulder width apart and his knees slightly bent. "Try to push me, Sam." Sam looked dubious, and then pushed his hands against Danny's stomach. "Harder, Sam, c'mon, really try to push me over."

Sam squared his shoulders and pushed, his feet scrambling on the ground as he tried with all his might. His cheeks started to go red as he heaved his small body against Danny's much larger one. Danny winked at Stella, and promptly fell over. Sam lost his balance, sprawling on top of the cocky CSI. Danny burst out laughing.

"And you told me you were too small," he grinned down at the little boy, who looked unsure of whether to laugh or to cry. Carefully, Danny lifted the little boy onto his feet, and then stood himself, dusting the backside of his jeans. His laughter was infectious, and soon Sam was laughing just as hard.

"Who's Messer's new friend?" Flack asked, throwing himself down next to Stella and giving her a quick kiss.

"Sam Martinez. You remember the Astor case?"

"Yeah, the one with the bugs?"

She nodded. "Mac still checks up on the kid every couple of weeks. Not checks up, really. He hangs out with him. Takes him to movies and for lunch. He was named as Sam's godfather a couple of months ago."

"Cute kid," Don smiled, watching him.

"No arguments here," Stella agreed. She leaned in against him, breathing in his familiar scent, enjoying the sensation of being held.

"I hit it!" Sam yelled suddenly. The ball hadn't gone very far, and it would have been a foul, but Danny ran over and gave the small boy a high five before sweeping him up onto his shoulders. They ran the bases made up of Danny's sweater, Sam's spring jacket, a plastic placemat, and a paper plate with rocks on it, in a victory lap.

"You hungry, slugger?" Danny asked as they rolled onto the grass at home plate.

"Starved."

"Me too. You wanna go back to the tent and see what Mac and Peyton and Lindsay have cooked up for us?"

"Yeah, okay." Sam picked up his glove, ran to fetch the ball and bat, and joined Danny. Trying to hold everything in one hand so he could grab Danny's hand, he dropped everything. Danny smiled, picked up the bat and ball and held out his hand to the little boy.

"Whaddya say, Stell? You hungry, too?" Don asked her, rousing from his state of half-sleep in the sun.

"A little," she smiled. "I hope you're in the mood for pizza. I hear there's a lot over by our tent."

He shrugged. "You know me, easy as Sunday morning," he grinned, that grin which made her heart turn over.

"Let's go."

Sam was in high spirits as he walked, victorious, back to the tent. He regaled anyone who would listen with his successful hit, and followed Danny everywhere, his eyes alight and awestruck. Finally, Mac took his hand, leading him to the table groaning with food.

"What do you want to eat, Sam?"

"Everything!" Sam said, looking at the table.

"How about we start with a burger or a piece of pizza and work our way up from there?" Mac smiled. "Lindsay brought the burgers, they're really good. And there's about five different kinds of pizza, pepperoni is your favourite, isn't it? Stella, she's the one with curly hair, remember? She brought fruit salad with watermelon and pineapple and strawberries in it. And there's pasta salad and Caesar salad and one with seeds and raisins and carrots in it-"

Sam laughed delightedly, putting his hands over his ears. "Too many choices, Mac! And you're forgetting the most important thing."

"What's that?" Mac raised one eyebrow, looking seriously at the little boy.

"A plate." Danny, Lindsay, and Don, who were sitting nearby, all snickered into their meals.

"Well I think we need to start with cleaning those disgusting hands, Sam."

Sam brought his hands down from his ears, looking at them. "They're not that dirty, Mac. Besides, they'll just get dirty again."

Mac smiled. "Okay, just this once. Don't tell your mom." He grinned, grabbing a plate. "Now. What do you want to eat?"

Sam sat on the ground in the center of the circle of adults, eating everything in sight. He listened only half-attentively; whatever they were talking about, it wasn't him. He wasn't a picky eater, which was good; some of the food brought to this picnic was a little on the strange side. He could have sworn that someone had brought deep-fried spiders, although apparently that was a big joke on Lindsay. He smiled up at Mac, his face smeared with ketchup and mustard, his shirt stained with watermelon, strawberries and Orange Crush, grass stains on his jeans from playing ball with Danny: the epitome of a thrilled little boy.

"Aw man," Danny said, getting up and checking the cooler, "we're outta anything not diet."

"What would ya want, Danno?" Don asked from his lounge chair.

"I dunno. Pepsi, Coke, anything, really. Root beer, even."

"Hey Sam, you wanna come for a ride?" Sam looked at Mac for permission. Smiling, Mac nodded.

"Please!"

"Okay, but we'll hafta wash your face and hands first, I've got a squad car and it has to stay clean, okay?"

Sam nodded. "Where do I go?"

"I'll take you, Sam," Mac said. "I want to make sure we get you as clean as we can."

"Okay," Sam stood up, putting his sticky little hand into Mac's clean bigger one. They walked off in the general direction of the public washrooms.

"Well, that's something I never thought I'd see," Lindsay said, unwittingly restating what she'd said over a year ago.

"Tell me about it." Stella agreed.

"I like it," Peyton smiled. "He looks younger with Sam."

Stella and Lindsay nodded.

"Anything to add, boys?" Peyton teased Danny and Don.

"Cute kid," Don said, getting up and stretching. "You coming, too, Danny, or am I taking just Sam."

"Nah, I'll stay here, Flack, if it's all the same."

"Sure thing. Be back in a bit," he kissed Stella and followed Mac and Sam.

"Cute shorts," Lindsay observed to Stella.

"I thought so," Stella smiled, watching Don walk away.


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: No infringement of copyright intended. All characters originated with CSI: NY. Other than Natalie Chance. She's mine._

Chapter 4

Little Boy Noises

"I think you're as clean as we're going to get you," Mac smiled down at the little boy, whose face was glowing from the scrubbing.

"If you tried any harder I don't think I'd have any skin left," Sam said seriously, looking at his hands.

Mac laughed, took the boys' hand and led him out of the washroom.

"Hey, buddy, ready to go?" Don asked, lifting his shades to wink at him.

"Yup. Am I clean enough now?" Sam asked, holding up his hands for inspection.

"I think so. The car is this way." Don pointed, and Sam slipped his hand into Don's. Mac grinned again as he saw Don's heart go mushy. His little boy was making conquests everywhere he turned.

"Take care of him, Flack," he smiled. Don threw a sarcastic salute and led the boy off, listening intently to Sam describe his baseball lesson from earlier in the day. Mac smiled at the image of the tall New Yorker bending himself almost double to hear the tiny voice piping up.

Mac wandered back to the CSI tent, sitting down beside Peyton and slipping his hand over hers on the armrest. She smiled in silent victory, any form of public affection was rare from Mac, especially in front of his team. Inevitably, talk turned to work.

"I'm still curious as to how they managed the lucky shot of cutting his carotid," Lindsay said, looking down at Danny sprawled on the ground, his head propped up on his arm.

"Search me, Montana," he smiled up at her. "It took a pretty obscure angle to get it right, he'd have to be going for execution style, but somebody tipped off our DOA."

Stella frowned, pursing her lips. "How d'you mean, Danny?"

"Well," he said, sitting up to demonstrate, "say Montana here is gonna shoot me." Lindsay put the palms of her hands together, extending her index fingers like a gun, and pointed it at the back of Danny's head.

"If I hear something, and turn, she'll panic and try to shoot me quick, right?" Lindsay feigned a surprised look and pulled her hands up as if reacting to the kickback of a revolver. Danny put his hand to the side of his neck, and collapsed. "But the vic must have seen his attacker's face. The shot was a through and through, there's no way he could have missed it. It's weird, though, because it looks like the wound was made by a knife, but there's no indication that it actually was. The bullet went through the vic's throat at such a velocity that it just opened up the whole side of his neck."

"Huh. That's odder than I expected," Stella said, still looking pensive. "How many weird ones we have to go through?"

"I dunno," Danny smiled, "but at least it's interesting."

CSI: NY-CSI: NY-CSI: NY

"So Sam, I hope you like Queen," Don smiled, glancing at the tiny boy occupying his backseat.

"Queen?"

"Don't tell me you don't know Queen, Sam, you might break my heart," Don grinned as he put the car in reverse.

"Umm," Sam squirmed.

"It's okay, you'll pick it up."

"Okay."

Sure enough, it only took the opening percussion from "We Will Rock You" for Sam to exclaim: "I know this song! We sing it at games all the time."

"I knew you would," Don said. "You want me to turn it up?"

Sam nodded enthusiastically, laughing as Don started drumming the beat on the steering wheel. Soon, both Don and Sam were singing at the top of their lungs, Sam's small voice making up words when Freddie's lyrics were lost on him. It was with regret that Don pulled into the parking lot of a small corner store and turned down the music.

"Do you remember what kind of pop Danno wanted?" Don asked, opening Sam's door.

"Pepsi, Coke, anything not diet. He said even Root Beer, but he didn't look like he wanted it." Sam jumped out of the car, reaching up to take Don's hand.

"Okay. Anything you want?"

"There's still Orange Crush there," Sam shrugged, tugging Don's hand and leading the way into the little shop. "I don't need anything else."

The more time he spent with this kid, the more Don liked him. He was a pretty selfless seven-year-old. He already hero-worshipped Danny, and he was softening up Mac little by little. It was hard to miss the look of pride on Mac's face when he looked at his little boy. It was easy to see how much Sam cared for the older man, too. His small face lit up at the thought of spending time with Mac, and while he didn't babble, he liked having people talking with him.

"Don?" Sam's voice came from beside the cooler. "May I have a little help, please?"

Don smiled at the image of the tiny boy trying to lift a 12 pack of Pepsi.

"Whoa, there, partner," he teased. "How about I pick it up and you grab something chocolate like for Stella and some ice cream for you?"

"Okay, Don. What kind of chocolate does she like?"

"Her favourite is the dark chocolate Caramilk. See if there are any, okay?"

Sam scampered off towards the chocolate counter, Don watching him carefully. Luckily, this was a fairly well stocked 7-11, so Sam found the chocolate bar he was looking for. Don took the opportunity to hide a chocolate bar on top of the pop box in his hand.

"What kind of ice cream is your favourite, Sam?"

"Chocolate."

"My kind of guy," Don smiled again, touching the boy's hat and directing him towards the ice cream cooler.

"You like chocolate too?"

"My favourite."

Sam reached into the cooler, standing on his tiptoes to grab a chocolate fudge Drumstick and then followed Don closely to the counter, reaching up to put his ice cream and Stella's chocolate on the counter.

"You want a bag for this?" the bored young girl behind the counter asked, scanning the items.

"No, that's okay. I don't think they'll last long enough to need one." Don handed her a couple of bills, thrust his change into his pocket and took Sam's hand to lead him out into the car. He carefully unwrapped Sam's ice cream cone, handing him a box of Kleenex with a grin.

"Try not to get any on the seat, okay Sammy boy?" Sam grinned, his mouth full of ice cream already. Don buckled him up and drove back to Central Park, blaring "Bohemian Rhapsody" as he went.

CSI: NY-CSI: NY-CSI: NY

"Mac? Hey, Mac!" A lean kid of about 19 ran up to the tent, his girlfriend running up behind him.

"Reed, it's about time you got here!" Mac smiled, getting up to shake his stepson's hand.

"School. Crazy. Food?" Reed panted, out of breath.

"On the table. Hi, Natalie." Natalie Chance, Reed's girlfriend, smiled up at Mac, raising on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek.

"Hi, Mac. How are you?" She smiled a little apologetically as Reed made a beeline for the table still groaning with food, ignoring everyone else.

"I'm okay. How are your studies going?"

"They're done, finally," Natalie said, with an enchanting smile. "Last exams were yesterday."

"Glad to be done your second year?"

"You have no idea. Next year I get to do a little more specializing. No more writing radio plays."

"Go grab something to eat; I'll see if I can find a chair or two."

This entire interchange was made under the curious stare of the team. They all knew of Reed, and of Natalie, of course. Mac had a picture of the three of them in a little frame on his desk, but they hadn't realized Mac was going all out with family today.

"Reed? Come here." Reed slid over, his mouth full of food, his plate heaped with it. "You've met Stella and Peyton; this is Lindsay Monroe, Danny Messer and Adam Ross." Reed swallowed his food quickly, wiping his hand on his board shorts to introduce himself properly.

"Reed Garrett. This is Natalie Chance, my girlfriend." Natalie and Reed made the rounds, shaking everyone's hands. Mac smiled as he watched Lindsay and Danny taking mental notes on each, out of habit rather than suspicion. Reed: lanky but not all that tall, just shy of 5'9", brown curly hair and blue eyes, a soft mouth but a stubborn chin. Natalie: a little shorter than Reed, 5'5" maybe, shoulder length brown hair and dark brown eyes, slim and athletic looking, with a few pink streaks through her hair. The streaks were obviously new, they hadn't had a chance to grow out yet. They both looked tired; writing exams took a lot out of any university student. They chatted easily with Mac and Peyton, Reed flushing when Peyton kissed him on the cheek in greeting.

Natalie was eating a bowl full of fruit, Reed a pizza sandwich, when suddenly the world exploded.

"Reed! Nat!" Sam threw himself into the circle of adults like a cannonball, hesitating only a moment before throwing himself at Reed. Reed laughed, picking up the little boy and accepting the hug. Sam scrambled down from Reed's lap, jumping up into Natalie's arms. She hugged him hard, then pulled back quickly when she heard something crack.

"Sam, what was that?"

"Uh oh." Sam went white beneath the layer of chocolate ice cream coating his face. Slowly, he climbed down from Natalie's lap, turning to Stella. "I'm sorry, Stella, I forgot."

"Forgot what, Sam?" Stella said gently, a little worried by the expression on his face.

"I forgot I had your chocolate bar in my pocket." He reluctantly pulled the broken foil-wrapped treat from his jeans pocket, handing it to her with a look of dismay on his face. "Don and me wanted to surprise you."

Stella smiled, taking the goody from his hand and then scooping him up into her arms. "Thank you so much, Sam, for bringing me something. I'm sure it'll taste even better now." She kissed his chocolate-y cheek.

"You really think so?" Sam asked, hope filling his eyes.

"Definitely. In fact, how about you take this piece to Lindsay," she broke the chocolate bar into quarters, "this piece to Peyton, and this piece to Natalie."

Sam took each piece carefully, and walked across the circle as if stepping on eggshells, delivering the small amount of chocolate to each woman sitting there.

Don had snuck back into the circle while Stella had been consoling Sam over the death of her chocolate, and whistled to Danny before throwing him a can of Pepsi.

"Anyone else?" he asked, holding up a second one.

"Thanks," Reed put up his hand, and Adam threw his fingers up in a salute. Don threw one to each, before cracking one for himself and sitting back.

"Guess what, Mac?" Sam yawned.

"What, Sam?"

"We turned the lights on when were on our way back to the park. The red and blue ones. Not the sirens though. We didn't want to worry anyone. The lights were loud enough, I think." Mac smiled at the drowsy little boy.

"Looks like we're going to have to clean you up again, Sam," Mac said, smiling as the little boy clambered up into his lap. Sam nodded sleepily, but made no sign of moving as he curled up into a ball and promptly fell asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: No infringement of copyright intended. All characters originated with CSI: NY. Other than Natalie, she's still mine._

Chapter 5

About a Boy

Sam stirred fitfully in his sleep, pushing his face into the warmth he felt against his cheek.

_He had to hide. He had to hide and he'd forgotten all the places he hid. He didn't know who that man was. He didn't know who that man chasing him was. The man who said he was his father. He had a father. He didn't look like this man, with his blond hair and light coloured eyes. Light eyes that were dark with anger because Ceci wouldn't let him have him. He had a father. A father with dark hair and dark eyes and a smile like his. _

_Stewart. She called him Stewart. That sounded something like Sam. A little. They both started with the letter "S." No. No, stop thinking like that. Find somewhere. Find somewhere to hide. He knew the museum. He knew the museum better than anyone else. Running. His breath catching in his lungs. His side burning. He stumbled. Fell. Tasted blood. Scrambled to his feet. Running. Still running. Seeing a dark, hidden place behind a chain, behind a display covered in plastic. He dove into it. Smacked the top of his head on the corner, and blinked the pain away. He crawled behind the display and stayed there. Trying to breathe quietly, trying not to move. He started to cry. Quietly. Scared. The light was cut off as the man moved in front of it, threatening. Close. Too close._

"Sam? Sammy? Sam, wake up, wake up." Sam opened his eyes, still crying. The tears made tracks through the ice cream on his face. He sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"Sorry. I'm sorry," Sam said, trying to stop, trying to be quiet.

"Don't be sorry. Don't be sorry, it's okay. It's okay, I'm here. I'm right here." Mac pulled the little boy's head against his chest, stroking his hair, holding him close. Peyton knelt next to him, holding a plastic glass of water. She dipped the corner of a paper napkin in the water and started cleaning Sam's face, gently and lovingly, cleaning his tears as well as the mess of chocolate on his face.

Peyton and Mac shared a look: questioning, probing, worried. Peyton smoothed the look from her face, handing the cup of water to Sam.

"Drink it slowly, okay, Sammy? Don't make yourself sick." Sam nodded, sipping the water carefully. "That's it. Do you feel better now?" Sam nodded again, handing her the cup of water and burrowing his face into Mac's chest again.

"Sam? Are you okay?" Lindsay asked. The team had sat silently through Mac and Peyton's parental administration.

Sam nodded, not looking at her, his face still pressed against Mac's now filthy t-shirt. "Bad dream," he whispered. His ears started to turn red as he realized that everyone was watching him in concern.

"Do you have bad dreams all the time, Sam?" Stella asked, leaning forward protectively.

He nodded. "About Stewart," his voice was so quiet he could barely hear it himself. His tongue slipped on the unfamiliar name. "About Stewart trying to take me."

"No one's going to take you, Sam. I'm here. Right here," Mac soothed him, rubbing his back a little awkwardly.

"Well, that was exciting," Adam said, clearing his throat. "No more surprises, hey Sam?" His voice was kind, but his eyes were just as worried as everyone else's. Adam understood being scared of adults. Adam knew what it was like to be always looking over your shoulder, wondering when the next smack was going to come. He and Sam hadn't had the same experience, Adam had at least been hit by someone he knew, but he understood. Better than anyone here, other than Danny, of course.

The best thing to do was to distract the boy entirely.

"Hey Sam, did Mac ever tell you about Lindsay eating bugs?" he asked.

Sam shook his head, but peeked one eye out from his hiding place, his ears losing their crimson colour a little bit.

"Well. Danny bet Mac that Lindsay wouldn't eat the bugs from an exotic cuisine night."

"Exotic?" Sam asked.

"Weird," Don supplied.

"How much did you bet?" Sam turned around, engaged.

"Five bucks," Danny said, still sitting on the ground. He leaned back against Lindsay's legs. She smiled down at him, running her fingers through his short hair.

"Did you eat it?"

"Of course I did. Deep fried spiders and wasp tamales and… what else did we have, Danny?"

"Grasshopper chutney. Stink bug paté, I liked the mealworm pasta, myself."

Sam looked at them in disgust. "You ate all that? That's gross."

"Not really," Adam said. "I brought some. You want to try it?"

"Umm."

"Tell you what. I bet you a chocolate bar you can't eat the whole thing," Don said, holding up a Rocky Road, Sam's favourite.

Sam looked dubiously at the tarantula on a stick being handed to him by Adam with a grin.

"Okay," he shrugged and took a bite of one of the legs. He chewed slowly, then giggled. "Adam?"

Adam bent down, letting Sam whisper in his ear. "This isn't spider. It's just chicken."

Adam winked at him. "I know that. But Flack doesn't."

Sam made a great show of eating the rest of the spider, pulling faces and even gagging a time or two. As he finished, he took the paper napkin from Peyton, wiping his face and hands carefully. Climbing down from Mac's lap, he marched up to Don, one hand outstretched.

"Atta boy, Sammy!" Danny said, laughing.

"Okay, okay," Don grumbled, handing the chocolate bar to Sam with some ceremony. Sam took the bar with a grin, broke it in half and handed one half to Adam. After stuffing a rather large bite of chocolate in his mouth, he turned back to Don and said.

"Ooh no iwanlyken?"

"What was that, Sam?" Danny asked. Sam swallowed with some difficulty.

"You know it was only chicken," he repeated, looking smugly at Don. Don looked shocked.

"You pretended to like it and it wasn't even spider? Oh, you're a hard man, Samuel Martinez."

Sam grinned. "I know." He sat down next to Danny on the grass, handing him a bite of the chocolate. Danny smiled but shook his head, tearing into a piece of buffalo jerky, so Sam reached up to offer it to Lindsay instead.

"C'mere, Sam," Natalie said, "I haven't had a cuddle with you yet." Sam sleepily climbed into her lap, and she smiled as she pulled his cap off, combing her fingers through his tousled curls. She nestled her cheek against the top of his head, holding him close and humming a soft lullaby as he drifted off to sleep again.

Stella glanced at Mac, smiling as she noticed he was watching Sam with a fond smile on his face. She hadn't seen that smile in too long. She threw a quick glance around the haphazard circle of her colleagues, her smile widening as she watched them all watching the little boy.

It was a good thing Danny liked kids, she mused. Lindsay sat with her head tilted to the side, her gaze flickering between Sam and the man seated in front of her, almost unconsciously massaging the back of Danny's neck with gentle fingers. Stella could almost see visions of minivans and white picket fences floating through Danny's clear eyes. She smiled again, cutting her eyes away from the quiet conversation the two of them didn't know they were having.

Flack's blue eyes held hers with a question. A question she wasn't quite prepared to ask herself yet, let alone him.

Adam cleared his throat. The rest of the team jerked their eyes away from Natalie and her sleeping armful.

"So, Natalie, what are… what are you studying?"

"I'm a creative writing student, with a minor in drama. I'm hoping to do some script writing, maybe even perform my own work somewhere Off-Broadway. Well," she amended, "probably closer to Off-Off-Off-Off-Broadway, but even that's a start."

"Ambitious," Lindsay smiled.

Natalie shrugged. "There's not much point in waffling through university without knowing what's happening at the other end. I know the choice I've made isn't an easy one, but it's a choice. That's better than most of the students in my program." Lindsay nodded encouragingly. She'd done pretty much the same thing, though in a completely different field of study.

"How about you, Reed?" Adam asked.

"Journalism," Reed said. "Too curious for my own good. Dunno where I got that from, but it's always been the case. 'Satiable curtiosity."

"I don't think your nose needs to be any longer, babe," Natalie said, smiling affectionately at him. He rubbed one thin finger over his nose, a slight flush rising to his cheeks.

"So, how did you two meet?" Adam was starting to feel a bit like a bad interviewer.

"In class," Reed shrugged. "I dropped my pencil, she handed it back to me, it was love at first sight," he dramatically crossed his hands over his heart, rolling his eyes towards the heavens.

"Well, the class part is true," Natalie said. She slid her hand under Reed's, twining their fingers together. "To be honest, I don't know why I ever said yes to the halting, stammered offer for coffee."

Reed looked a bit hurt at that.

"You know, Nat," Stella grinned. "I've often asked myself the same thing." She squeezed Don's hand.

"I did not stutter," Don said, rising to the bait. "Besides, it was practically your idea."

"My idea?" Stella said, her eyes laughing. "You're the one who oh-so-casually asked if I wanted company. And then laughed at my coffee."

Lindsay smiled, she'd heard only bits and pieces of this story.

"It wasn't coffee, Stell. It was a heart-attack waiting to happen."

"It was comforting. I was going mad in there. Besides, it tasted good."

Don stopped taunting her, bringing her hand up to his lips and kissing her fingers gently. "I know."

"How about you, Lindsay?" Natalie asked with that open face all students have when they feel part of an adult conversation.

"Well. It started with me standing him up." Natalie looked at her in frank disbelief, her eyes flickering over Danny's face. "Honestly."

Danny shrugged. "She made it up to me. Months later," he smiled up at her, that cocky half grin which she loved.

"Well, after he came to Montana, saved my life, helped me catch the bad guy, and lived through staying in the same house as my parents, I knew he was the one," she smiled again.

"Yeah, living with the parents was the tough one. I thought Ted was going to mess up my face with a shotgun."

"Don't be ridiculous," Lindsay's fingers combed through his short hair again, "they loved you."

"I wasn't so sure for a while there. Especially when they found me curled up in your bed at home while you were in hospital." Just the memory made his ears hot.

Mac grinned. "How'd that go over?"

"They pretended it didn't happen. Made sly little jokes about it. Diane covered me up, though. I think she expected me to go in there." He shrugged, looking nonchalant about it all. In reality, his heart had sped up a little just remembering the look on Ted's face during that awfully awkward breakfast.

"We really are going to have to meet your parents, Lindsay," Peyton smiled. Lindsay shrugged, mimicking Danny precisely.

"Soon, maybe."

"I guess it's your turn, Mac. What's your first disastrous date story?" Reed grinned at his sometimes step father.


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: No infringement of copyright intended. All recognizable characters originated with CSI: NY. Natalie still belongs to me, and so does Dr. Anne._

Chapter 6

Boys Will Be Boys

"Well, ah." Natalie giggled as Mac's ears flamed in embarrassment. The rest of the team was watching, interested. Unconsciously, he started to pull his hand from Peyton's, but seemed to rally himself.

"Yeah, tell us, Mac," Danny grinned.

"Well, it was a pretty simple arrangement," Mac said, his fingers tightening on Peyton's. "I asked her if she'd come for supper, said I made a good sandwich. Took her to the deli down the street, you know the place. Of course, I had to leave early, got called in, as always," he grimaced. "Not exactly what I was hoping to have happen, but at least it turned out okay."

Natalie was the first to notice the look on Peyton's face. "What's wrong, Peyton?"

"Oh, nothing," Peyton's smile was serene, but her eyes flashed.

"That's not the real first date, is it." Lindsay's question wasn't really a question. "You know, Mac, for being one of the smartest men I've ever known, you are a dunce sometimes."

"Well, yes. He can be." Peyton smiled again.

"What are you talking about?" Flack asked, torn between amusement and sarcasm. He went with both. "How could you just not know it was a date?"

"Well, about two weeks before that meeting, I walked into his office and asked him when the last time he'd eaten was. He said he couldn't remember, so I dragged him out to that soup shack and made him eat something, stew, I think. It wasn't long, only twenty minutes or so. But it was supposed to be a date. Apparently that wasn't read exactly as I planned it." She smiled fondly at Mac, touching his cheek with her hand. "It doesn't surprise me that much. Like you said, Lindsay, he can be a bit of a dunce, sometimes." She winked at the younger woman.

Mac was sitting looking flabbergasted. "Why didn't you just tell me?" he managed, finally.

Peyton raised one eyebrow. "Exactly how does one go about doing that, Mac? Oh, la de da, just thought I'd pop in to ask you out and all that, love the new tie, hope you've realized by now this is actually a date, not that you commented on the new perfume I'm wearing especially for you or anything." Her eyes widened in childlike curiosity. "Really, I'd be fascinated on how to do that without appearing a complete fool."

Mac just stared at her.

Finally, Natalie couldn't help it, and went off into gales of giggles.

"The look on your face, Detective!" she squealed, trying to minimize the movement of her shoulders so as not to wake the slumbering little boy against her chest. Sam stirred, then fell asleep again as she gently kissed his brow and steadied her breathing.

"Jeez, Danno," Don said, looking at the sleeping child, "what did ya do to him?"

"What do you mean, what did I do to him? What did you do to him?"

"I fed him an ice cream cone and a chocolate bar. You just wiped him out."

"We were having fun." Danny hadn't bothered to move from his position leaning back against Lindsay's legs. He closed his eyes. "Besides, I'm tired too, but I'm an adult, and I'm not supposed to take naps."

"Aww, baby, do you need to go home so you can sleep?" Lindsay teased.

"Maybe I do. Thanks for caring." Danny's voice was theatrically sulky.

"Actually, Natalie, do you want to wake him up for me? It's getting late and if he sleeps too much now I won't be popular with Elena."

Natalie nodded and gently shook the little boy's shoulder.

"C'mon Sam, time to wake up." His eyes fluttered open, and he yawned.

"No nightmares this time, buddy?" Danny asked, hiding his worry.

"No. I am thirsty, though." Sam said in a husky, sleepy voice that seemed completely out of place in a young boy's mouth.

"Here's some water, Sam," Mac handed it to him, and he drank gratefully.

"Danny, can we go play some more baseball before I have to go home?"

"Sure thing, kiddo. You want to come, Donnie?"

Don shrugged. "Sure." He kissed Stella's forehead and headed off with the other boys.

"Well," remarked Lindsay. "At least they're cute."

CSI: NY - CSI: NY - CSI: NY

"So, did you have fun today, love?" Lindsay asked, slipping her hand into Danny's as they walked out of the dusky park.

"Yeah, he's a cute kid. And he's fun. Surprisingly so, after what happened last year."

"Mac's taken good care of him. He sees a counselor every Monday, too. After school. Peyton told me." She yawned and smiled as Danny slipped his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close.

"Looks like we need to get you home," Danny smiled, kissing the top of her head gently.

"Mmm," Lindsay sleepily agreed. "But I can think of better things to do when we get home."

"Can you," Danny said, sounding surprised. "Like what?"

"Well, you smell like grass and mud, and you've ruined those jeans. We could start with a bath."

"We?"

"I thought you might want some help scrubbing your back."

CSI: NY – CSI: NY –CSI: NY

Dr. Anne Millerton studied the little boy sitting impatiently on the edge of his seat, eyes downcast, fingers twisting in the hem of his gray NYPD t-shirt.

"Did you have fun, Sam?"

He nodded politely.

"Were you scared?"

He shook his head, then seemed to reconsider. "I had a nightmare," he reported.

"What happened?"

"Stewart chased me. I got away, but he found me. Mac saved me," he said succinctly.

"What do you mean, Mac saved you? Was Detective Taylor in the dream?"

Sam shook his head. "He woke me up."

"How?"

"He shook my shoulder, and called my name. He said it was okay to cry. He said he wouldn't let anyone hurt me." Sam was speaking to his knees, so he didn't see the doctor's eyes well up with tears. It never got easier, to hear these stories.

"Did you believe him?"

Finally, he looked up. "Yes." His voice registered a mixture of shock and defiance.

"I don't mean to say that Detective Taylor was lying, I just wondered if you were having second thoughts about it."

Sam shook his head, looking back down at his knees. "I trust Mac. He lets me play with his team."

"His team?"

"Danny an' Lindsay an' Donnie an' Stella an' Adam. Sheldon couldn't come. He was busy."

"How are those people his team?"

"They work for him. Lindsay and Danny and Stella, oh, and Sheldon, work in the field." His eyes narrowed as he tried to remember. "Adam is a D… DMA tester. No… DNA. Donnie is a cop. He takes down the bad guys after the science."

"What does 'in the field' mean, Sam?"

"When there is a crime, Lindsay and Danny and Stella and Sheldon process the scene. They take fingerprints and blood samples and look for weird things and save the people who are scared."

"Like they did for you?"

He nodded.

"And what does Adam do?"

"I told you. He's a DNA tester. He makes sure they catch the right bad guys."

Anne was impressed with this grasp of the justice system.

"Who told you this?"

"Mac. And Peyton. Mac works in the field. Peyton is a Medical… Exam… Examiner. When someone has died… she tells the CSI how they did so they can catch the right person." Sam's face was open and excited.

"What do they look like?"

"Why does it matter? They're my friends, just like Jack." He looked up, defiant again.

"I just want to know how much you remember."

"I need a piece of paper."

Anne smiled and pushed a piece of blank paper over the desk with a pencil. This had been a part of his therapy at the beginning, he was needing to draw less often now.

Sam started sketching in his friends at the picnic as they had been sitting in the circle.

"Don has blue eyes and black hair. He's a lot taller than anyone else. He smiles with the side of his mouth, not the whole thing. He talks like a cop on those old movies." Anne saw a tall figure bending down towards another. _To kiss someone else?_ she wondered.

"He's in love with Stella. Stella is beautiful, she has green eyes and curly, curly brown hair." A mass of curls obscures the figure Don's face.

"Danny has blue eyes and mostly blond hair. I think he dyes some of it. He is short, much shorter than Don. He likes to laugh, and he talks different. He smiles like Don. He ate bugs." A figure with a baseball bat, sitting at the feet of the next figure.

"With Lindsay. Lindsay is short, too, with brown eyes and brown hair that is curly but not like Stella's." A vague sketch, nothing stands out.

"Adam has crazy hair and a beard, but it's kind of scruffy looking. Like my mum says when dad's beard gets too long. He is smart, much smarter than he thinks, but he gets nervous. He likes computers, they can't lie to him." A beard that looks very much like Stella's curly hair overtakes Adam's face.

"Mac has grey eyes and black hair which is very short. He was a Marine and he fought overseas. He lost his wife. She died. Her name was Claire and she was very pretty." He draws a figure with a broken heart on his chest.

"Peyton is with him now. She has light eyes and long dark hair. She is from England. She talks like the people in Harry Potter." Another figure, holding hands with the Mac sketch, and a cup of tea in the other hand.

He stopped drawing, looking up at her. "I don't remember what Sheldon looks like. He wasn't at the picnic. I know that he has dark skin and dark hair, but I only remember because he was different from anyone else."

"Dark skin? What do you mean?"

"His skin is brown, like chocolate."

"He's black?"

"No. He's brown. I just told you."

"And you remember all this?"

He nodded. "I watch. I listen. It's important to listen. It's important to know things."

"Do you want to see them again?"

He nodded again. "I had fun with them. I felt safe. They are police men. They are supposed to protect me. That's their job."

"Is that the only reason you felt safe?"

He shook his head. "They are Mac's friends. I'm Mac's friend. Why would he let us play together if he thought they weren't safe?"

Anne smiled, taking a few notes.

"Can I go home now?" Sam asked, looking up again.

"You can get Detective Taylor for me if you promise to wait in the hallway." Mac had brought him to his appointment today, his mother had been given a new cleaning contract which finished just too late for her to bring him. It had been too late to call and rearrange a meeting time, so she'd called Mac instead.

He nodded. "Goodbye, Doctor Millerton."

"See you next week, Sam."

Mac smiled at Sam as he walked into the hallway. "How'd it go?"

"She wants to talk to you. I'm supposed to wait here." Mac ruffled the boy's hair.

"I'll be back in just a minute, okay?"

"Yes, Doctor?"

"Sam says you took him to a picnic on Saturday."

"Yes."

"He enjoyed himself?"

"I think so. My team remembered what he'd gone through. We had fun together."

"Did he seem stressed or frightened at all?"

Mac shifted uncomfortably. "He had a nightmare. He was sitting on my lap. We woke him up and he seemed okay. When he woke up again he didn't say he'd had another one."

"But that's the only time?"

"Yes. He played baseball with Detectives Messer and Flack, and he went for a ride in a squad car with Detective Flack. He ate a lot, mostly good food, and he proved himself to be very clever. He impressed Detectives Bonasera and Munroe."

"Detective. I think that Sam needs to continue with some of those relationships. He's reached a point in his evaluation in which he needs to be around more adults on an individual basis. He said he felt safe with your team. I think you should continue to let him see them."

Mac schooled his face so as not to show any surprise at this statement. "Are you sure he's ready for that kind of relationship?"

"Yes. He needs them. He has a few adults he talks to at church, and his teacher, of course, but he doesn't think of those people as friends. He thinks of you as a friend, and he thinks of your team as friends." She smiled then, and it transformed her. "He had fun, and it seems a shame to take that away from him." She handed him the drawing Sam had left on her desk.

"This is what he remembers from the picnic."

Mac was surprised, again, to see how inherently artistic Sam could be. He recognized every sketch. The faces were there, hidden behind the fumbling lines. Flack, tall but so in love with Stella it hurt. Stella with her mane of uncontrollable hair, laughing at Flack. Danny, his bat beside him, Lindsay, her hands running through his hair. Adam, looking shrewd but nervous, his beard hiding the set of his mouth. Peyton, as Sam saw her, beautiful but aloof with her cup of tea. Mac's heart dropped into his shoes as he recognized his own face. A broken heart on his chest. How appropriate.


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: No infringement of copyright intended. All recognizable characters originated with CSI: NY_

_A/N: An enormous thanks to my faithful reviewers. Honestly, this story lives due to you. Hold on tight, the ride is just beginning!_

Chapter 7

Little Boy Blues

Mac called his team into his office early the next day. They arrived slowly, cups of coffee clutched like lifelines in their cold fingers, eyes awake in sleepy faces. Mac waited until they'd all arrived. Danny and Lindsay arrived at the same time; Stella and Sheldon discussing a case in that quiet voice of those who are up far earlier than they want to be; Adam, Peyton and even Flack. Only the latter looked truly awake, in his pressed shirt and smart tie.

"So, what's up Mac? New case or what?" Danny asked, taking a sip of his coffee as he leaned against the wall.

"No, not really." Mac smiled.

"Well what's with the meetin', then?"

"I have a proposition for all of you."

"Well what is it?" Stella asked sharply. She hated when Mac played these games.

"I need you all to play with Sam."

"That's it? Seriously?"

"His counselor says he needs to start cultivating more adult relationships. Sam liked all of you and he felt safe with you. I know that everyone's busy, especially right about now, but if you could just spare a couple of hours a month for the next while, that'd be great."

"We gettin' overtime for this, Mac?" Danny asked. Mac shook his head, his eyes smiling, glancing around the group. He knew that Danny was already taken, and Lindsay's eyes had softened as soon as he'd mentioned Sam's name. Flack and Stella were having a tacit conversation, and Adam was trying not to look too eager.

"Me too, Mac?" Sheldon asked, raising one graceful eyebrow. "He doesn't know me yet."

"He wants to. He remembers your face. He told his counselor about you, although he didn't draw you in his newest picture, he's drawn you in others. You might have to go a little slower, but he trusts you already."

"Picture?" Adam asked.

"It was part of his therapy before. Now he just draws anyway," Mac pulled the crude sketch out of his pocket, unfolding it. He smiled and then handed it to Adam.

"Wow. He's not bad. I can definitely tell which one is me." Adam smiled and handed the picture to Lindsay, trying not to let his hands tremble.

"So you'll do it?"

"Okay, count me in," Sheldon said, shrugging.

"Us too," Stella added. Lindsay and Danny nodded, still looking at the portrait.

"Great," Mac said, his face breaking into a rare grin. "Now all I have to do is convince Elena it's a good idea."

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

Danny looked nervous as he knocked on the door, checking the address again in his notebook. Lindsay smiled up at him.

"It's okay. She'll love you. I promise."

"Yeah, thanks, Montana," he tried to smile back, but his lips wouldn't co-operate. Lindsay stifled the need to giggle. The man standing in front of her would gladly take down men twice his size; had been shot and crawled his way through the snow into a cabin with a known killer (not to mention the man who'd just shot him); squared off against drug-dealers, gang members, and serial killers; and yet he was nervous about meeting the mother of his eight year-old baseball apprentice. _Crazier still that I love him to distraction,_ she thought, turning to face the door.

Danny had just raised his hand to knock again when the door flew open. Sam launched himself at Danny, hugging him around the knees, then allowed Lindsay to pick him up and hug him properly. Just as quickly, he scrambled down and ran back into the house.

"Mum! Mum, they're here!" Elena came out of the kitchen, being dragged along by her enthusiastic son. Lindsay smoothly stepped into the line of fire.

"Mrs. Martinez, hi. You might remember me, I'm Lindsay Monroe, and this is Danny Messer."

"Yes. Hello, Detectives," Elena's face was cool, her handshake firm, her eyes unblinking. Lindsay waited until she'd turned around to wince. _Yes, she definitely remembers me._

Danny was the one to smile reassuringly this time. Gently, he slipped his hand into hers, and walked into the house, removing his shoes.

"Coffee? Tea?" Apparently, though Elena didn't appear to like either of them much, she was wiling to be polite.

"Coffee, thank you," Danny replied.

"Nothing for me, thanks," Lindsay said politely, sitting on the edge of the couch. She glanced at the pictures on the coffee table. "Sam, did you draw all these?"

Sam looked up from the Lego castle he was building. "Uh-huh. Want me to show them to you?"

"I'd like that very much," Lindsay smiled, still a little nervous.

Sam jumped up on the couch beside her, tucking himself between her body and Danny's. He picked up the stack of pictures on the table and started sorting through them, looking for something.

"Can you guess who this one is?" He handed her a picture of a man, wearing glasses, his crayon sky-blue eyes piercing from the page.

"Hmm," she held the picture up, comparing it to Danny. "I think it's Danny. Is that right?"

"Yup. See? He's wearing a blue t-shirt, just like that day at picnic." He rifled through his stack again. "This is my mum," he held another picture up at random.

"Yes, I can see her smiling just exactly like that."

He handed another picture to Danny. "That one is Lindsay. It's not finished yet, I can't get her hair right."

"Oh, I dunno, Sammy boy. It looks pretty good to me." He grinned, holding up a picture of a half-bald Lindsay. She stuck her tongue out at him.

"Here's Donnie, and Mac, and Stella. Here's Adam."

"Sam, isn't that a picture of a computer?"

"Yes, with Adam's hair." Lindsay burst out laughing.

"Here's Sheldon, although I don't know if it's right. I haven't seen him in a while. And this is my best friend, Jake."

"Wow, Sammy, you're pretty good at this whole drawing stuff. And with crayons, too! Do you want to be an artist when you grow up?" Danny asked, stretching.

"No."

"Why not?"

"I want to be a sketch artist for the police department. So I can help you catch the bad guys." Suddenly, he looked guilty. "I didn't do a good job of describing my bad guy, did I?"

"Oh, Sam, it's okay. You did better than any of us thought you could have." Lindsay assured him, squeezing him around the shoulders. "Do you have a picture of Peyton?"

"Uh huh. Right here." Lindsay couldn't help but be impressed. No sketch was completely finished, but all of them had been painstakingly drawn. They must have taken ages to have gotten this far, far more time than she would have allotted a young child devoting to, well, anything.

Elena materialized from the kitchen again, holding a steaming cup of coffee for Danny.

"Aw, thanks, Mrs. Martinez. You're a saint," he grinned, turning on his charm.

"You're welcome. Now, Detectives, I understand you want to spend a little time with Sam?"

"Only if that's all right with you, Mrs. Martinez," Lindsay said hurriedly. "I know that we're basically strangers, and I wouldn't want you to feel pressured by either of us, any of us, in any way."

"Elena, please." The faintest trace of a smile appeared on the woman's face. Lindsay gloried in her small victory for just a second. "What kinds of things were you planning on doing with Sam?"

"Well, we were going to take him to a ball game, and he and I had a lot of fun playing in the park last week. That's mostly what we were thinking, some time spent outside, having fun," Danny answered. "I know that Mac doesn't have the time he wants to for that kind of stuff, and he doesn't want to admit he's getting older. Don Flack and Reed Garrett, Mac's step-son, you know him?" He waited for her cautious nod. "Well, they also wanted to do some 'guy stuff,' shoot some hoops and play soccer. Teach him the rules for football."

"And you, Detective-"

"Lindsay," Lindsay cut her off smoothly. "Well, it might surprise you, but I'm a pretty good pitch. Mostly we want to do things with him that Mac doesn't, or can't. Sorry, buddy, we won't be taking you to the movies. We know that's something you and Mac do special." This last was directed to the small boy beside her, as she ruffled his tousled curls.

Sam shrugged, jumping off the couch again to return to his Lego. "That's okay. I like special things with everyone I know."

"So, Elena, that's about it. We'll make sure he gets muddied up and tired out from time to time, and probably feed him a little."

Sam glanced up again. "Sounds good to me, mum. Can I go?"

Elena laughed. "Well, I think it'll be a good idea. You don't spend enough time outside, you're paler than a ghost." She turned her attention back to the young couple sitting in her living room. "Do you know what other kinds of things the others might do with him?"

"I know that Adam Ross wants to introduce him to the world of video games," Lindsay smiled fondly. "Don and Stella will probably do the same kind of stuff we do, although Stella mentioned something about a combined art class that looked interesting. Dr. Hawkes… well… Sheldon will teach him chess."

"I like chess," Sam said, his eyes back on his Lego. "I'm not good at it."

Danny laughed. "Trust me, boyo, fifteen minutes with Sheldon and you'll be the best chess player your age in Manhattan."

Lindsay looked anxiously at Elena. "I wouldn't want you to think we're trying to… take over, or anything."

This time Elena cut her off. "Dr. Millerton and I spoke about it. She seems to think there's no one better for him to start forming relationships with. And she's probably right. I know that none of you will let anything happen to him."

Lindsay smiled again, ignoring the odd sense of foreboding filling her.

CSI: NY - CSI: NY – CSI: NY

"That went well," Danny said as they bade Elena goodbye half an hour later.

"It did." Lindsay still hadn't shaken off her strange premonition from before.

"What's the matter, Montana?"

"Oh, nothing. I just hope that Dr. Millerton is right, that we'll do some good for Sam."

"Whoa, Montana. What makes you think we won't be? You're a natural with kids, and Sam at least thinks I'm funny."

"Maybe that's what I'm worried about," she teased, trying to distract him.

"Ouch," he rubbed his chest. "I'm not sure that was necessary. You might have to make it up to me."

"Might I? And how would I do that, exactly?"

He raised one eyebrow. "Well, I've got a few ideas--"

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

"Adam? Adam. Adam!" Lindsay stood directly in front of the younger man, forcing him to stop in his tracks.

"Oh, hi Lindsay. I was just coming to find you. We finally got a hit in CODIS."

"On who?"

"On your second bleeder." Adam looked proud, he always did when he'd figured something out. "His name is Isaac Bennett. Interestingly enough, he only appeared on the map about ten years ago."

"Immigrant?"

"That or Witness Protection. Even more interesting, he's a little shy of incredibly wealthy."

"How d'you mean?"

"He's a mechanic."

Lindsay raised one eyebrow. "A mechanic? They're not usually wealthy, Adam."

"I know, but he only fixes cars for some of the best. He says his top priority is to 'keep beautiful cars looking beautiful.' According to his website, anyway." Adam handed her the DNA sheet and a printout of Bennett's advertisement.

"Hmm. All right, thanks, Adam. I'll go and convince Danny we should talk to this guy."

"No problem." Adam watched her walk away, glad his scruffy beard hid his blush. Too bad his ears were likely to burst into fire any second.

Lindsay marched into the office she shared with Danny, running straight into him.

"Whoa, Montana, where's the fire?" Danny's hands held her shoulders, steadying her.

"Sorry. Adam just got a hit on the second guy in the room."

"What, the not dead one?"

"Well, I hope he's not dead. Otherwise we're even further behind than I thought we were."


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: No infringement of copyright intended. All recognizable characters originated with CSI: NY._

_A/N: As always, a huge thanks to my wonderful, faithful, and above all, observant reviewers. Remember that phone call...?_

Chapter 8

Boy Oh Boy

Stella checked her pager for what seemed like the millionth time. It was exactly twenty seconds later than it had been the last time she'd checked.

"What's wrong, Stell? You look panicky." Sheldon fell into step beside the woman as she swept down the hallway.

"I'm picking up Sam today. I don't want to be late." Stella grinned in a quasi-apology.

"You won't be late," Sheldon soothed.

"You'd think it was the first time I've taken a little boy for the afternoon," Stella grimaced.

"Isn't it?" he smiled.

"Well. Yes. But that's mostly beside the point."

"Stella. Everything will be fine. He loves you. You're taking him to an art class, which he loves. You're taking him to a painting class, something he's never done outside of school."

Stella rubbed her forehead with her hands, breathing out sharply.

"Besides," Sheldon continued brightly, "if worst comes to worst, aren't you meeting with Don for supper afterwards? You can shove all the responsibilities on him."

Stella glared at the bubbly young doctor beside her, and then gave into weak laughter at the innocent look on Sheldon's face.

"Okay, okay. So things can't go horribly wrong. I know. I'm a little nervous. So sue me."

"Nah, you wouldn't be worth it," Sheldon ducked into the DNA testing lab to avoid the half-hearted glare Stella sent his way.

"Gee, thanks, Shel." She checked her pager. Exactly two minutes since the last time she had checked. It was going to be a very long day.

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

Sam rocked back and forth on his heels as Mrs. Richardson looked at the note he had handed her.

"So Detective… Bonasera is picking you up today, Sam?"

He nodded.

"Does your mother know?"

"She wrote the note, Mrs. Richardson. It's her signature at the bottom," Sam pointed out politely.

"All right. As long as she's on time, then."

"She will be. Stella is never late."

That had been at quarter past nine. It was now quarter to three. Sam fidgeted in his chair, finally pulling a scrap of his math homework towards him to doodle. Fifteen minutes was a long time. He pushed the paper away, and checked his backpack hanging on the back of his chair. _Good._ He did have the painting shirt Stella had asked him to bring. It was one of his father's old shirts, long enough to go to his knees. Stella didn't want him ruining his school clothes. His mother had approved of that.

Sam sighed and pulled the paper toward him again. He started sketching what he could see out the window, his mind wandering.

"_No, you can't speak to him." His mother's voice, sounding angry and a little scared. A pause. "Please stop calling my house. I will inform the police." Another pause, longer this time. "No, we do not need your help. He is our son and you are not to have anything to do with him." The sound of the telephone slamming down. The sound of his mother crying. The sound of his mother blowing her nose and then returning to finish washing the dishes in the sink._

_Who had called? Who wanted to speak with him? It couldn't be any of the team; his mother wouldn't have any trouble with him talking to them. He'd talked to most of them on the phone, in any case. So who could be calling? Who would upset his mother like that? A sudden fear gripped his heart._

_Stewart._

_No. No, it couldn't be Stewart. Stewart was in jail. Mac had taken him to see Stewart in jail. Not to actually see him see him, not to talk to him or anything. Just so he could make sure that Stewart was behind bars. So he could know he was safe._

_Carolyn. Carolyn was phoning._

The school buzzer jerked Sam out of his reverie. He shook his head, the worries instantly forgotten as he grabbed his homework, shoved it into his backpack and ran out onto the playground. Stella was waiting for him, searching anxiously in the muddle of kids let out from the school. He ran up to her, holding his arms up for a hug.

"Stella!"

"Hi, Sam! How was school?" She knelt down to hug him, kissed his cheek.

He shrugged. "School was school. We learned a new song on the recorder. And we heard three different versions of Cinderella. Did you know that in the real one the ugly stepsister _cut off her toe_?"

Stella laughed. "No way, really? That's kind of gross. Do you like fairy tales?"

"I like miffs better."

"Myths?"

"Yup. We've learned a few Native American ones from Canada. Mrs. Richardson loves them."

"Have you learned any Greek myths?" Stella had taken his hand and was leading him gently through the throng to the small car parked neatly on the sidewalk adjacent.

"Not yet. Next week. Or after. Why?"

"I know a few of them," Stella admitted.

"Really? Like what?" Sam allowed Stella to buckle him into the backseat, checking and double checking the catch.

"Oh, you'll have to wait and find out at school. My favourite is the story of Bellerophon and Pegasus, although it has a sad ending. Ask Mrs. Richardson about that one."

"I will. Stella?"

"Yes Sam?" Stella started the car, turning the radio down low.

"Where are we going?"

She smiled at him in the rear-view mirror. "You'll see."

Sam nodded happily. He liked surprises.

The art gallery was in a tiny old-fashioned boarding house. Sam looked at it critically, then shrugged and grabbed his backpack in one hand and Stella's hand with the other. Local artists' paintings lined the walls, clay sculptures huddled in each corner. A massive installation piece - three enormous bowls with different levels of water; set in different levels using a stool, the floor and a high box- sat in the middle of the room, with fake rose petals hanging on fishing line from the ceiling above, more petals strewn about the floor. Sam cocked his head to the side, trying to see how this was Art. Mostly it just looked like it took up a lot of room that other artists could use.

He allowed Stella to lead him through the gallery and up a flight of rickety stairs. Sam looked up at her.

"What's up here?"

"A painting class. For adults and kids to take together. I thought you might like it," Stella looked a little nervous, uncertainty tinged her words and her eyes.

"Painting? Fantastic!" He said the second word with an odd slant, as though his voice was uncertain of whether to imitate the way Danny said the word or the way Peyton did. Almost imperceptibly, his footsteps sped up as he hurried up the stairs.

The loft above was already full of kids and their parents. Little blond girls in pink with white shoes. Little dark-haired boys in red and blue with black shoes. A number of parental-sounding voices calling names. "Jonathan!" "Emma!" "Dan-iel!" "Brittany!" As soon as Sam saw it, he wanted to paint it.

Sam grinned cheekily up at Stella. "I hope you don't make me call you. I don't think I'd do it so good as Marlon Brando."

Stella burst out laughing, leading him to a couple of easels set up nearby.

"Class? Excuse me, everyone?" A harried older woman stood in the centre of the room, waiting for everyone to look at her. Finally, she gave up, put her fingers in her mouth and whistled shrilly. The kids running around her feet instantly winced, clapping their hands over their ears.

"Thank you. Welcome to the first class of Parental Painting. If everyone will return to their easel and pick up a paintbrush, we'll begin with a timed exercise."

Timed exercise?

"I would like everyone to close his or her eyes and pick up a paintbrush at random from the easel in front of you." Sam ended up with a thick brush, Stella with a very thin one.

"Now, the lids of your tempera paint are screwed on tight, so close your eyes again and tap your paintbrush on your starting colour." Sam hit a murky green, Stella a yellow that looked like someone had accidentally mixed brown into it.

"You have one minute and fifteen seconds to paint whatever that colour reminds you of. You can use that colour alone, or add colours, or not even use that colour at all. Remove the lids of your other paints." She gave them only a moment to do this. "And begin!"

Sam immediately applied his brush to the paper with sure, confident strokes. Stella stood at a loss. _What on earth did yellow remind her of?_ Hesitantly, she began to paint a woman's hair, and then sketched in a face with long, thin strokes.

"Your time is up, everyone!" Their teacher bustled imperiously about the room, checking. "Now, turn your easels around so everyone else can see your painting!" She took her place in the middle of the room once again.

"I am Miss Barker, and I will be your instructor for the next six weeks," she spoke over the sound of easel scraping. "And you are?" she pointed at Sam.

"Sam… Sam Martinez." The little boy shrank back, not liking her tone.

"What did you paint, Sam Martinez?"

"Stella's eyes," he said without hesitation.

"Who is Stella?"

"I am," Stella spoke up, smiling fondly down at the tiny boy beside her. "Detective Stella Bonasera."

"And what did you paint, Detective?"

"I'm not sure," Stella admitted. "I think it was going to be a woman, but really I just put paint on the paper."

"Hmm." The art teacher pursed her lips, looking at the unlikely pair through narrowed eyes. Almost immediately, she turned in the opposite direction, accosting a young girl named Mathilde. Stella felt Sam tug at the sleeve of the sweatshirt she was wearing. She leaned down to hear him whisper against her ear.

"I don't know if I like her, Stella." She smiled down at him; his small, serious face already had a streak of paint across the forehead. He looked even smaller in the old maintenance shirt he'd stolen from his father, the tails of the shirt falling past his knees.

"Me neither. It's okay, she's just trying to look professional. We're a pretty scary group."

Sam considered that, then nodded. "I hadn't thought of it that way."

The rest of the class passed quickly. Miss Barker continued to bark at them, but Sam ignored her and concentrated on his painting of Stella. Almost as an afterthought, he started painting Don standing behind her, closing his eyes and trying to remember the look on the man's face. At the end of the class, he carefully rolled up his dry painting and carried it back down the stairs.

"Did you like it, Sam?" Stella asked. She had a streak of red paint across her cheek.

"Yes. I would like to come back."

"Good," she looked about to say more, but her pager cut her off. She checked it quickly. "Sam? Is it okay if I take this? It's Don." He nodded graciously, taking her other hand as they walked back to the car.

"Bonasera."

"Hey, Stell. You still up for supper?"

"I'm starved. I'm pretty sure Sam is, too." He tugged on her hand, then mimed taking the phone from her. "Hang on, he wants to tell you something." She handed the phone to the little boy, keeping an eye on him as she unlocked the car.

"I have a present for you, Donnie," Sam said as he climbed into the car.

"Really? What is it?"

"A surprise. Where are we having supper?"

"Tell Stella we're going for pizza. She'll know."

"Okay. Do you want to talk to her again?"

"Tell her I love her, okay, buddy?" Sam nodded, then remembered Don couldn't see him.

"Yes. See you soon?"

"Uh huh. Bye, pal."

"Bye." Sam closed the phone, handing it back to Stella. "He says we're going for pizza. And he loves you."

Stella blushed, putting the car in gear after dropping the phone on the passenger seat. "Thank you, Sam."


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: No infringement of copyright intended. All recognizable characters originated with CSI: NY._

_A/N: Alright already! Sam and Reed, as promised! LOL! Thank you to all the wonderful reviewers out there, thank you for coming with me on this journey. It's not over yet, that I can guarantee!_

Chapter 9

Messy Boys

_Running. Always running. Never getting anywhere. Breath burning in his lungs. Sides aching, legs aching, whole body hurting, pounding in rhythm as his feet pound the marble tiles. Tripping. Falling. Tasting blood. Spitting. Spitting on the tiles, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, still running. Crying as he runs. Tears streaming down his face, choking him. Snot running down his face. A vague, blank part of his mind, the part that's not scared, not running, wishes he had a Kleenex, wishes he could blow his nose. Wishes he could stop running._

"_Sam!"_

_He screams, dashing around a corner._

"_Sam! Listen to me! I'm your father! You have to do what I say!"_

_The small, rebellious part of him screams again. "I have a daddy! Daddy!"_

"_I am your father, Sam! You can't hide from me forever!"_

_  
"I WILL!"_

_He doesn't know who's talking through his mouth. Someone has taken it over._

"I will!"

"Sam? Sam! It's okay, Sam. You fell asleep. It's okay, Sam. I'm here, I'm right here."

Sam was vaguely aware of someone touching his face, wiping his tears away with soft hands. A Kleenex was held to his nose.

"Blow, Sam. It's okay, buddy. It's okay." He obeys without thinking.

"St—Stella? Stella?" He felt her arms around him, felt her pull him out of the car

"I'm right here." Stella held him close, nestling her cheek in the tousled curls instinctively. "Do you… do you want to eat, Sam?" She lifted his face with her fingers, looking concerned and a little nervous.

He nodded. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

She smiled, kissing his forehead. "Don't be sorry, kiddo. It's okay. Let's go eat some pizza with Don. Okay?"

He nodded again. Stella didn't bother to put him down, closing the car door with her foot and juggling small boy, picture, purse, cell phone and keys as she walked toward the restaurant.

"Need some help there, beautiful?" She smiled up at Don, accepting his kiss.

"Here," she said, shoving purse, cell phone, and keys into his unresisting hands. She lifted Sam a little higher in her arms.

"Hey, buddy. You okay?" Don looked concerned, his gaze flickering between the comforter and the comforted.

"Bad dream. I fell asleep in the car."

"Stella made it better, though, right?"

"Yes."

"Good. Hungry?"

Sam nodded as Don put his arm around Stella's shoulders, leading her into the restaurant.

"He gonna be okay?" Don whispered into Stella's ear.

She nodded. "I think so," she whispered back.

"I'm right here, you know," Sam said crossly. "You can stop talking about me."

Stella laughed as Don looked sheepish.

"For three?" A young server approached them.

"Yes, thanks."

They'd been seated, served, and were almost finished before Don bothered to ask about the episode in the car.

"What did you dream about, Sammy boy?"

Sam shrugged, taking the last huge bite of pizza.

"Stewart." Stella didn't bother asking. Sam nodded, taking a slurp of his sweetened ice tea through the bendy straw.

Don quickly changed the subject. "You said you had a present for me, Sam?" he asked with a grin.

Sam nodded, then held his hands out to Stella. She cleaned them carefully with a damp napkin and handed him the rolled up paper he'd been clutching in the car.

"Sorry I wrinkled it a little." He handed the painting to Don without ceremony.

"Sammy, it's fantastic." He showed the picture to Stella. "Did you see this?" She grinned and nodded.

"You like it?"

"I love it, pal. Thanks." Don smiled, rolling the painting back up carefully. "You need to hit the john before we leave?"

Sam looked puzzled. "Who's John?"

"You need to go to the bathroom, Sam?" Stella asked. He nodded. "Okay, Don will take you." She squeezed Don's hand and watched them walk away.

"Are you all finished here, ma'am?" The young server reappeared.

Stella nodded. "Thank you."

"Your son is completely adorable," the sixteen-year-old said as she finished taking away the plates. She left before Stella had the opportunity to blurt out anything that was buzzing around her head as an answer.

CSI: NY -- CSI: NY -- CSI: NY

"Sam? You okay in there?" Don tapped gently on the cubicle door, flushing. Having three baby sisters had prepared him for a lot of things. This wasn't one of them. He heard the toilet flush, and breathed a sigh of relief, stepping back to let Sam out.

"Wash your hands, okay, buddy? And we'll clean your face, too. How did you get pizza sauce in your eyebrows?"

Sam shrugged, walking over to the sink and lifting his hands, waiting for Don to turn the taps.

"Donnie?"

"Yes, Sam?" Don was intent on scrubbing the little boy face, feeling like he was just moving tomato sauce from one place to another.

"Someone is upsetting my mum. On the phone. Someone has called more than once. It's not Stewart." Following this bizarre statement, Sam left the bathroom, leaving Don to scramble out behind him.

Don volunteered to drive Sam home, and was marginally disappointed that Sam fell asleep within minutes. After handing the sleepy boy to his mother, and saying goodnight, he walked back to the car, lost in thought.

His cell phone went off as he slid back into the driver's seat.

"Flack," he hadn't bothered to check the caller ID. "Sure, gorgeous. I'll be right there," he grinned into the phone. "Give me ten minutes."

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

Sam stood at the top of the biggest Big Toy, crowing at the top of his lungs: "I'm the King of the Castle! Reed's a dirty Rascal!"

"Hey, no fair! You took off before Mac said 'go'!"

"Did not!" Sam looked shocked.

"Did too!"

"Did not did not did not!" Sam stuck out his tongue, grinning.

"Did too to infinity!" Reed grinned back. "Ha! Now what? You're stuck."

"Nuh-uh. Did not to infinity plus one!" Sam put his hands on his hips, looking incredibly pleased with himself.

"Mac! Tell him he's not playing fair!" Reed called across the playground. Mac looked up from the book he was reading.

"Sam, play nice with Reed. His feelings get hurt easily." Mac smiled serenely at his spluttering stepson. Natalie burst into giggles, lying in the sun wearing short shorts and a tank top, trying to get the suggestion of a tan on her pale theatre-student skin.

"Okay, Mac. I promise." Sam said seriously, jumping on the slide. "What do you want to play now, Reed?"

"Last one to the sandbox can't play with the tiger Jeep!" Reed said, sprinting off. He slowed halfway to the sandbox, artfully letting Sam beat him. While he knew that losing wouldn't faze the younger boy in the least, he also knew that Sam loved his tiger striped Jeep.

"Aww man! Not again!" He pulled his beat up Hot Wheels Jeep out of his pocket, and handed it to Sam. From his other pocket he produced an old red Dodge pickup truck. Both had seen a lot of sand, probably some salt water, grass, pavement, and puddles.

Sam immediately set to work building a jump for the cars, streaking sand across his forehead when he pushed his hair out of his eyes. Reed built a runway leading up to the jump, not caring that he was ruining the knees of these jeans, too. Reed didn't like to admit it, but he loved playing with Sam. As a twenty year-old man, he probably shouldn't love to play with Hot Wheels cars anymore, but as long as it kept Sam busy and made him happy, Reed would do whatever it took. Mac had told him the story of meeting Sam. Reed had thought it was bad enough knowing that his birth mother was dead, but his imagination shuddered back from what Sam had been forced to witness.

"Okay, buddy. You go first." Sam obediently drove his Jeep along the runway, making shifting noises with his mouth. The Jeep flew an impossible length, landing squarely on all four wheels before performing a wheelie and back flips for the invisible, inaudible crowd. Reed's truck, on the other hand, was not so lucky. After an incredible wipeout, complete with blowing-up noises and gestured flames, it limped off to the side of the sandbox. Sam howled with laughter at the sight of the usually composed Reed flailing about as he tried to create the perfect sound for an exploding truck.

Mac glanced up again, then shook his head, smiling, and returned to his book. Reed was busy making a fool of himself, trying to make Sam laugh. _My boys,_ he thought, shaking his head. _You'd never guess they were a dozen years apart._

Natalie jumped up, having had enough of lying in the sun, and ran over to the sandbox, too.

"Hey Sam, will you show me what the Jeep did just there?" she asked, sitting down next to Reed, ignoring the bite of sand on the backs of her thighs.

"Okay," Sam grinned. He drove his Jeep back to the starting point, but this time, instead of the miraculous landing, the Jeep somehow managed to spray sand down Nat's shirt. Sam burst out laughing at Natalie tried to scoop the sand out her neckline, hoping to catch it before it went down her bra.

"Sam!" Reed admonished, his face serious. "That was awesome!" He held his hand up for a high five, ignoring the withering glare sent his way by his girlfriend.

"Sam, Reed, play nice!" Mac called from his vantage point.

"Okay, Mac!" They both yelled back.

"Well, I'm going to go play on the swings. Last person there has to push!" Natalie said, jumping up and taking off towards the swings at the opposite end of the playground. Sam yelped and leaped after her, laughing like a goon and spreading his arms to airplane most of the way. Reed slowly counted to ten before following.

After another hour of playing on the swings, throwing a Frisbee around, tackling each other in the grass, swinging on monkey bars, rolling down the hill, climbing the jungle gym, flying to the moon, playing James Bond, kicking a soccer ball, playing hide and seek, and tetherball, all three kids crept up on Mac, ambushing him and demanding ice cream.

"Ice cream? What makes you think you deserve ice cream?" Mac looked sternly at the three slightly sunburned faces in front of him. "You're all filthy, for one thing."

"That's okay, Mac. Let's… hit John!" Sam said, proudly remembering.

"Who's John?" Natalie asked, looking puzzled. "Oh, hit _the_ john. Okay, I gotcha."

Sam grabbed Reed's muddy hand in his, tugging him to the public washrooms. "C'mon, Reed. We have to be clean before we get ice cream!"

Mac slipped his bookmark back into the crime novel he was reading, and checked to make sure he had some cash. Ice cream it was.

He drove the sweaty but scrubbed children to the nearest ice cream shop.

"You order first, Sam," Reed said, politely stepping back. Mac winced as Sam ordered the one ice cream he couldn't stand- Tiger Tiger. Something about orange and licorice just didn't sit well with him.

"It's the same as your jeep, Reed, look," Sam said, holding up the cone heaped with the stuff.

Even Reed looked a little green, and Reed would eat _anything_. Mac had straightforward Rum and Raisin ice cream, Natalie a small bowl of raspberry frozen yogurt, and Reed a massive Smarties and Mint Chocolate Chip sundae complete with whipping cream and hot fudge sauce.

Natalie winced at that particular purchase.

They sat outside at a clean, stripped picnic table. Mac kept throwing glances at Sam's ice cream cone, hoping he wouldn't have to 'clean it up.' That phrase was one of Peyton's oddities, apparently she didn't see the fun of letting ice cream get all over one's hands, shirt, face, arms and the tabletop in front of one. She dutifully licked melted ice cream from around the top of the cone, handing it back to Sam when there was no chance it might explode all over him. Mac would be fine with that if it was an ice cream that wouldn't turn his stomach inside out. Even Bubblegum ice cream, last summer's fad, had been better than this.


	10. Chapter 10

_Disclaimer: No infringement of copyright intended. All recognizable characters originated with CSI: NY._

_A/N: I will apologize in advance to any of my readers who play Nintendo, I know that Pok_é_mon was never made for Nintendo 360 or for GameCube, but I arbitrarily decided that it should have been._

_Thank you to all my faithful readers and reviewers! Bluehaven4220, watch for your requested quote!_

Chapter 10

More Little Boy Games

"So what did you do with Stella and Don?" Dr. Anne asked the little boy, sighing internally at his defensive posture.

"I went to an art class with Stella. I painted her. We're going again on Wednesday. Then we went for supper with Don. Pizza."

"And you felt okay through the whole time you were with them?"

Sam nodded. "I had another nightmare. Stella made it okay."

"What did you dream of?"

"Running away."

"From Stewart again?"

He nodded, twisting his hands together.

"Is there anything triggering these nightmares, Sam? Anything you do during the day that makes you dream? Do you only have these dreams at specific times, or after you've done something?"

He shook his head.

"When you see certain people?" Dr. Anne pressed.

"Do you know what I mean?"

He glared at her. "No, I _really_ don't. Please _enlighten_ me so that I may see your way of thinking!"

Dr. Anne looked rather shocked. "Samuel. Where did you hear that?"

He squirmed. "Sorry. I heard Lindsay say it to Danny. I didn't think it would sound so rude when it was in my head. I'm sorry."

She sighed.

"Okay, Sam. Will you draw me a picture of what you remember at the restaurant?"

He nodded, already reaching for the pen and paper she handed him. Quickly, he sketched Stella and Don seated across from him, Don's arm around her shoulders, taking a long sip out of a bottle. Stella was laughing.

Sam finished his picture with the word "John" scrawled in little boy writing across the bottom of the page. His writing was so at odds with his drawing that Dr. Anne often wondered how he could do either at all. His printing was so clumsy, his drawing so effortless.

Wordlessly, he handed Dr. Anne his completed sketch, then rose and walked out of the room.

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

Sam wandered through the lab, looking for Adam. Adam was supposed to be playing with him today, but there'd been some breakthrough on a case, and, much to Adam's disappointment, he had to be there to sort something out. He'd apologized profusely to Sam, promising to be only a few minutes before handing him a stack of papers and a pen so he could draw.

He'd doodled for a little while, then left the short table. He had promised Adam he wouldn't touch anything, but he'd never promised not to look around.

He saw computers everywhere, all buzzing ominously and spitting out hundreds of pages worth of data. Wandering down a long hallway, he caught his breath at the sight of what seemed like hundreds of bustling people, writing on the glass walls of the offices, typing furiously, staring into microscopes, pulling trace off of clothing, and arguing about the chemical makeup of this or that substance. He turned the corner at the end of the hallway, arbitrarily turning right. He sat down on the floor, pulling a piece of folded paper and a pen out of his pocket and starting to sketch the busy hive of activity he was watching.

Adam was panicking. He'd returned to the table where he'd left Sam only five minutes ago, and the kid was no where to be seen. He ran his hands distractedly through his short hair, making it stick up in his anxiety. He started working in a grid pattern, then realized that would never work, as there was only one of him, and Sam could easily walk into a section he'd already searched. He walked quickly down the main hallway, muttering furiously under his breath, trying to control his shaking hands.

Sam got up again, going back to the main hallway, he now stayed going straight, in a sense turning left at the hallway itself.

Adam was at his wit's end when he saw Sam saunter across the end of the hall, staring around in fascination. He swore under his breath, breaking into a run.

"SAM!" Adam ran up behind him, catching his shoulder roughly. "Where did you go? I've been looking everywhere for you! Don't you know this is a dangerous place to wander off? I mean, jeez, man, there are dead people in the basement!"

Sam looked shocked, scared, and started to cry.

"Oh… shoot," Adam censored at the last minute. "I'm sorry, buddy. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry. You just… you scared me, that's all. C'mere." He took the little boy in his arms, rubbing his back gently. He felt like an idiot. The one thing he was never going to do to a child, and he'd come more than close to doing it.

"Sorry, Adam," Sam whispered, quieting down.

"It's okay. I'm sorry I scared you."

Sam took Adam's scratchy face in his small hands, looking at him intently. "Did I really scare you?"

Adam nodded. "When I couldn't find you, I panicked. This is a really big building, and there are things here that no one should be playing with. Especially you."

"Oh. I didn't think about that. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Let's get out of here, okay? I'm done what I had to do." He put Sam down, taking the little hand, and led him back through the maze of the lab. When they got back to Adam's apartment, he started up the Nintendo without really thinking about it.

"Okay, Sam, do you remember what you're supposed to do on this one?" Adam handed Sam a Nintendo game.

"This is the one where I race, right? I like the dragon man."

"His name is Yoshi," Adam explained, popping the game into the controller. "I'll be… Toad, I think."

"Why is his name Toad if he's a mushroom?" Sam asked, picking up the blue control.

"He's a toadstool. It's a kind of mushroom." Adam picked up his clear plastic control. He liked it because he could see how everything fit together. Plus, he'd made it himself.

"Oh. That makes sense." Sam selected the course and his car, then took a swig of the apple juice sitting beside him.

"So Sam… everything is okay at home and stuff?" Adam asked, botching things completely, as always, as he and Sam raced around the Peach Cup.

"Yeah. Mum and Dad are busy, but I see them all the time. Dad has breakfast with me. Mum has supper with me unless I go out with someone."

"Flack said you were worried about something."

"Someone is phoning my mum, and making her upset." Adam glanced at the little face, set in concentration and stubbornness. "I don't know what to do, so I told Don."

"That makes sense. Did you tell Mac?"

"No. Mac will worry. Mac will try to fix it. I don't think he can fix it this time." Sam looked away from the television screen for a moment, meeting Adam's eyes. Adam was amazed at the depth of understanding in those eyes.

"What do you mean, 'this time' Sam?" Adam asked, turning back to the game.

"He fixed it last time. He fixed Stewart. I don't think he can fix this time."

Adam lapsed into an uncomfortable silence as they raced around and around the track. Eventually, they switched games, playing Pokémon, a game he was embarrassed to own, but hadn't the heart to get rid of.

"Sam."

"Yes?"

"What do you have nightmares about?"

"Stewart." Sam looked surprised at the question.

"Who's Stewart?"

"He said he was my father. But he's not. I have a father. His name is José Martinez."

"Yes, I met your father. He's a great guy. I liked him. Are you afraid of Stewart?"

"Yes." Sam didn't bother to look over at Adam, concentrating on catching the Eevee that had just appeared to fight his Charmander.

"I understand being afraid. Trust me. But what do you think he's going to do, Sam?"

Sam squirmed uncomfortably. "He wants to take me away from my parents."

"Why does he want to do that?"

"Why are you asking me all these questions?" Sam finally turned to look at Adam.

"I was just curious, Sam, that's all. I was very afraid for a long time, and I want to help you. That's all."

"Who are you scared of?"

"Oh. Umm… my dad."

"Why are you scared of your dad?" Sam asked quietly.

"My dad… wasn't a very nice guy. He… he hit me, when I was little. And when I was… not so little."

"I'm sorry," he said succinctly, putting down his controller and getting up to hug the nerdy older man. Sam was a lightning hugger, his hugs hard and fast, then gone in the blink of an eye.

"It's okay, Sam. There's not much you can do about it. How about some Spaghetti-Os?" Adam got up quickly, hoping that Sam wouldn't notice his eyes were welling up at the unthinking sympathy from the little boy.

"Sure," Sam said, nodding and stepping back. He picked up his controller again and succeeded in catching the Eevee, then turned off the game and went to help Adam in the kitchen.

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

"Mac?" Adam stuck his head around the door to his superior's office, an unlikely sight.

Mac waved him in, talking on the phone. Dutifully, Adam entered and sat on the edge of the seat, looking like a little boy sent to the principal's office.

"Stell? Hold that thought," Mac said into the phone. "I have an unexpected visitor. I'll call you back?" He rubbed his fingers over the bridge of his nose. "Okay. Yes. Yeah. Bye." He hung up the phone, and sat on the edge of the desk, looking down at Adam.

"What's up?"

"It's just, it's about Sam. I don't know if it'll come to anything or anything, I just, he said something that was peculiar, and I didn't think you wouldn't want to know about it. I mean, he didn't tell me first, I asked him about it, but he said something to Flack, and I know that he wanted to tell you, but he's been on opposite cases lately, you know, and--"

Mac held up his hand, staving off the babbling. "Okay, Adam, okay," he smiled at the nervous tech. "Just take a deep breath and then tell me."

Adam laced together his shaking fingers. "Sam said someone is calling his house and upsetting his mother."

Instantly, Mac was on alert. "When did he say this?"

"When I had him on Friday. We came here for twenty minutes, then went home for video games. I asked him about something Flack had said, and he said that he didn't want to worry you, so he told Flack instead."

"He didn't want to worry me?"

"He said something about you not being able to fix this time. I don't know exactly what he meant, and I didn't want to push. I forget sometimes that he's a kid, and I didn't want to go all cop on him."

Mac relaxed carefully, letting out a breath. "Did Flack tell you everything that Sam said?"

"He said that Sam was worried and I should keep an eye on him. He said Sam told him that Stewart wasn't calling his house, but someone else was."

"Thanks, Adam."

Adam took that as a dismissal, getting up and turning to go.

"Mac?"

"Yes?"

"Don't worry about it too much. He's got all of us looking out for him. Who could get him through all of us? I just wanted to tell you so I could stop worrying." Adam threw him a furtive grin before quitting the office.

_Who indeed?_ Mac thought, watching Adam walk away. Automatically, he picked up his notebook and scratched a reminder of the conversation on the page. Then, he picked up the phone to call in a favour or two.

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

"So the knights move in an L?" Sam asked, staring intently at the board. Sheldon had taken the slight jibe Lindsay and Danny had thrown at him and turned into his special thing to do with Sam.

"Yes." Sheldon watched as Sam painstakingly moved his knight away from a pawn's potential attack. "Do you remember how the bishops move?" Sheldon touched the head of the King's side bishop with his index finger.

"Diagonal. On the colour they started on," Sam replied.

"Right!" Sheldon moved the piece from g8 to c5.

Sam studied the board, his small face intently concentrating. He touched his King's side castle, then stilled at the tiny shake of Sheldon's head.

"Why not?"

"Move it and I'll explain." Wordlessly, Sam moved his piece from j1 to j6, not taking his fingers off the piece, as he'd been taught.

"If you move it there, then I'll move this piece here," Sheldon's Queen's side knight took out Sam's King's side bishop, "and you'll be faced with a check."

Sam narrowed his eyes. "Okay," he conceded, moving the piece back. "How about this one?" He selected a piece at random, a pawn, and moved it.

"Actually, that's a pretty good move." Sheldon smiled at the frustrated little boy. "How about a break?"

Sam shook his head stubbornly. "I'm not taking a break until I beat you."

"Careful there, Sammy. Them's fighting words, you know. And I've been playing chess for a very long time. We'll take a break and when you get back you can look at the board with fresh eyes, okay?"

"Okay," Sam heaved a sigh, then got up and stretched.

"How about some chips and sweet iced tea?" Sheldon asked, picking up the tiny magnetized chess set he'd brought for Sam's first lesson.

"Okay," Sam smiled. They wandered down the hall, hand in hand.


	11. Chapter 11

_Disclaimer: No infringement of copyright intended. All recognizable characters originated with CSI: NY_

_A/N: As always, thank you to my wonderful reviewers, and everyone who is reading this story._

Chapter 11

The Boy Grins

"Sam?" a woman's voice called him as he and Sheldon passed the office Danny and Lindsay shared. He turned, tugging on Sheldon's hand to stop him. Although work was slow on this particular Sunday, and Sheldon wasn't on the clock, he was on call, so they'd slipped into the building to take advantage of the peace and quiet.

"Yes, Lindsay?" Sam smiled, the picture of innocence.

"I don't know how you did it. But fix it. Now." Lindsay's eyes snapped dangerously as she thrust her phone at Sam.

"What's it doing?" He adopted a look of concerned puzzlement.

"You know perfectly well what it's doing, Samuel. Now fix it."

"I didn't do anything!"

"You were playing with it. When Sheldon went to get the chess set, I handed it to you to hold for a minute while I unlocked the door. Now it's speaking in Russian or something and I can't understand a ff—I can't make heads nor tails of it."

Grudgingly, Sam took the phone and flipped it open. "I think I can fix it," he said reluctantly, pressing a few buttons.

"You'd better be able to fix it." She crossed her arms, tapping her foot. A few seconds later, Sam handed her the phone with a flourish and walked away. She looked at it for a moment, then shrugged. Sheldon hurried to catch up to the little boy.

"Whoa, where's the fire?"

"I need to go fast, Shel."

"Why?"

"Because I made it talk in French instead of Russian!" Sam burst into laughter as he started running, almost fast enough to ignore the shout from behind him.

"SAMUEL ALEJANDRO MARTINEZ, YOU GET BACK HERE THIS MINUTE!"

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

"No. No, you can't speak to him. Stop phoning my house!" Elena slammed the phone down. José put his arms around her, holding her close as she cried against his shoulder. Clumsily, he brushed his hand through her long hair.

"Elena, Elena," he soothed, whispering in her ear, "it's okay, Elena. Everything will be okay. Nothing will hurt him."

"How do you know? How?" she demanded, pulling back for an instant. He pressed his lips against her forehead, carefully guiding her back into his arms.

"Sam is not stupid. He will know what to do. Nothing will go wrong. Everything will be okay."

He stared into the darkness of his son's room upstairs, hoping he was right, holding his sobbing wife as tenderly as he knew how. And for the first time in over a year, José Martinez prayed. He prayed with the desperate plea of a man who saved his prayers because he didn't believe they were answered. He prayed that God or Jesus or whoever was up there would keep his son from harm.

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

"Sam-o, buddy, you look tired," Flack said, lifting the boy into his arms to get a better look at him.

"I'm okay," Sam said, squirming to be let down. Flack looked surprised, but put the boy down without protest.

"You brought your playing clothes?" Sheldon asked quietly. Sam had noticed that Sheldon did everything quietly. That was one reason they got along so well. He nodded in answer to the question, holding up a gym bag.

"Okay, babe, we'll come and get all you boys when supper is finished," that was Lindsay, kissing Danny before walking away.

Sam grinned excitedly. Today was all about the boys. He savoured the words. "The Boys." It made him feel important, being counted as one of the Boys. And it wasn't just one or two of the team, either. It was everyone. Mac, Danny, Donnie, Sheldon, Adam and even Reed, and him, of course. The Girls (he generously allotted them the capital, as well) were going to be making a million course meal, from what he understood. He also understood the inflection, and reasoned that he was either having lots of pasta or someone would order pizza when they were all starving. He was itching to get started.

He also wasn't sure whether to laugh at the sight of Adam wearing shorts. He didn't, because he knew it wouldn't be very nice. But he wanted to.

"So, Flack, you ready?" Danny was jumping around, miming slam-dunks and quick crossovers.

"I think the better question, Danno, is: are you ready to get ground into dog meat?" Sam slipped his hand into Mac's, watching his friend watch Peyton walk away. Mac, Sam knew, was one of those men who simply couldn't kiss anyone in public. Not his wife, not his girlfriend, probably not his daughter, if he had one. Lucky Peyton was okay with that, really.

Sam smiled to himself, seeing Mac's broken heart slowly mending. He turned back and waved at the Girls leaving. Lindsay, Stella, Peyton and Natalie, the last looking a little nervous, were discussing their plans for the evening, but Nat caught his wave and smiled back.

"So, Mac, you think we can take 'em?" Sam said, smiling confidently.

"Oh, I don't know, Sam. There're a lot of them, and Don's kind of tall."

Sam considered this.

"Maybe you're right. Oh well. It would have been fun. But I want to see what dog meat looks like."

"Just take a look at Danno's face, Sammy boy."

Danny glared at Don, who grinned and easily ducked the casual swipe thrown at him.

Sam stopped listening, soaking up the atmosphere instead.

He was with The Boys.

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

Mac smiled at Peyton, who was sitting on the couch in Danny and Lindsay's apartment with an exhausted but very full little boy on her lap. At least this time he was clean, although his shirt had a few spots of tomato sauce on it. Sam was fast asleep, and the adults around him whispered, hoping not to wake him.

"We should probably get him home," Peyton said, rubbing her hand gently over Sam's back.

"It's late," Mac agreed, "later than we usually have him. And he played hard today."

Lindsay smiled, taking in the fresh road rash on his cheek. "Who tripped him?"

"He tripped over a water bottle," Don said. He was lying on the floor with his head in Stella's lap. "He was running full-tilt and stepped on it. Went flying. Got right up and kept going, didn't even notice."

"It'll hurt tomorrow when he sees it in the mirror," Danny agreed. He scooped a few glasses off the coffee table, starting to clear up. Lindsay quickly rose to help him, and the two of them disappeared into the tiny kitchen.

Adam rolled a beer bottle between his hands, unsure of what to say. He was still nervous, even though he'd rather officially become one of Sam's protectors. Reed and Natalie were also sitting on the floor, but were not touching.

"C'mon you two," Mac said, rising and grabbing his coat, "I have to take you home, too. Nat--"

"I'm staying at Reed's tonight, thanks Mac. No huge commute for you tonight." Mac smiled briefly, then leaned down to carefully pry Sam out of Peyton's arms. Sam struggled for a moment, and then was still, falling back to sleep immediately.

Peyton quickly checked her watch. "Oh my goodness, it's after 10! No wonder he was tired."

There was a muttered goodnight as they left the apartment, the door shutting quietly behind them.

Don groaned and sat up. "I'll go help in the kitchen so we can get out of here?" He half-asked Stella.

"Okay, sweetheart. Sounds good." She leaned back against the couch and closed her eyes.

Adam sprang to his feet. "I'd… I'd better get going, too. I'm on early shift tomorrow, can't afford to be late and all that. Good… goodnight, Stella." He raised his voice. "'Night Don, Danny… Lindsay." Quickly, he saw himself out.

Don and Stella left a few minutes later.

"Can we not do dishes?" Lindsay asked, leaning back against the counter.

"We could probably get away with it," Danny answered, turning away from her to stack dirty plates in the sink.

"How about we do that, then?" Lindsay slipped her arms around Danny, sliding her hands across his flat stomach.

"How come? You're the one who always wants them done right away."

"I know," she leaned her forehead against his back. "But I'm tired."

"Well, let's get you to bed then."

They moved through the apartment; turning off lights, checking the lock, hanging up the phone, finding keys for the morning, then tottered wearily down the hall to their bedroom.

Within minutes they were both asleep.

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

"Nat?" Reed whispered to her, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. Her head lifted off his chest.

"What?"

"You don't have to do this, you know." His hands ran over her bare arms gently.

"Do what?"

"You know. Play with Sam, spend time with the team, with Mac. You don't have to."

"Don't I?" She smiled against his fingertips.

"No, of course not.

"Well, neither do you," she pointed out.

"Yes, I do."

"Then so do I." She cut off his argument with a chaste kiss, then settled her head against his chest again.

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

"What do you mean, you don't know where she is?" Mac said angrily into the phone. He waited a moment, then sighed sharply. "She's left the state? She can't do that!"

"Well, she has," the bored voice came back to him. "I think you're making a huge deal about this, Mac. She's not here. That's a good thing, it means she's not after Sam."

"Well, what about surrounding areas? Is she in New Jersey? Connecticut? Massachusetts? Pennsylvania? Hell, she could be in Canada, for all we know!"

"We don't know. Not everyone has gotten back to us. This was a pretty major favour to call in, you know. It's not like this was easy." The voice was bitingly dry now.

Mac sighed out a breath, then continued more calmly. "I'm sorry. I just—I need to know where she is. I need to keep my boy safe."

The voice finally humanized a little. "All right, Taylor. We'll find her. We'll do our very best."

"Thanks, Jerry. I appreciate it." Carefully, Mac hung up the phone before spinning around and driving his fist at the wall. A mere inch from the wall itself, he stopped. That kind of drastic action wasn't going to help him here. He had a better plan in mind. He made a few calls, then left the building, leaving a note with Stella that he'd be back.

"Why is she calling?" Mac spoke into the phone, glaring through the glass.

"How the hell should I know?" Surprisingly, Stewart didn't look awful in the orange jumpsuit he was wearing.

"How should you know?" Mac's voice dripped with scorn. "Oh, I don't know, Stewart, because you see her every other week?"

"Nope."

"No what?"

"Haven't seen her for…" Stewart's eyes rolled towards his hairline, "must've been four months now."

"Four months? Why not."

"Dunno. She just left. Didn't say anything about it. Just that she wouldn't be visiting for a while." Stewart stretched, running his hand through his hair, looking unimpressed. "Why the hell do you care, anyway, Taylor." It was a statement, not a question.

"Because she's violating the restraining order."

"Liar." Stewart looked amused now.

"Why would I lie to you?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

Mac frowned. Now he remembered why he hated this man.

"I've been spending time with Sam."

"How is he? Growing up, I guess." Stewart couldn't quite hide the interest in his eyes.

"Yeah. Almost six inches taller now." Mac said flatly.

"Still eating chocolate?"

Mac glared at him. "Yes. Do you have anything that's going to help me or are you just going to be a smartass?"

"Whoa, Detective." Stewart raised his hand. "I don't have anything that's going to help you."

"Fine," Mac snapped, getting up. He slammed the phone down. Stewart tapped urgently on the bullet-proof glass between them. Mac picked up the phone again.

"Wait. I might have something. But I want something for it."

"Like what?"

"I want to see Sam."

"Forget it." Mac started to hang up the phone again. Stewart banged on the window again, ignoring the alarmed look of the guards, who started toward him. Mac waved them off, putting the phone to his ear.

"I don't want to talk to him or anything. I promise. I just want to see him. Damnit, he's my son."

Mac deliberated. "If Sam wants to see you, I'll bring him in. Tell me."

Stewart thought about it for a moment, then sighed, nodding. "Carolyn had a plan for our honeymoon."

"How is that supposed to help, Stewart?"

"We were going to go to her family's house in Jamaica." Stewart hung up the phone and turned away.


	12. Chapter 12

_Disclaimer: No infringement of copyright intended. All recognizable characters originated with CSI: NY._

_A/N: A huge thank you to all the readers and reviewers! I love to hear what everyone thinks and especially enjoy knowing you're enjoying it. And the plot thickens..._

Chapter 12

Take Me Out to the Ball Game

"Hey Sammy boy, you want a hot dog?" Danny asked, his mouth close to Sam's ear. Sam nodded.

"Ketchup. Just ketchup, please," he said, turning his attention back to the game.

"Anything for you, Montana?" Danny leaned behind Sam so as not to obscure his view.

"Just something to drink, Danny, thanks."

"Okay, be right back." He brushed his lips against her cheek and scrambled off along the row of people, trying to move as quickly as possible. Lindsay grinned down at the small boy beside her, looking beyond adorable in his brand new Staten Island Yankees tee shirt.

"So, you enjoying the game, Sam?"

"Yeah. Are we winning?"

"I think so. I think if we lost, Danny might explode. This was his team, you know."

"He played for them?" Sam's eyes were alight as he looked up at her.

"He'd just signed on when his hand was broken, so he couldn't catch very well anymore. Well, he can catch, but not for very long, because it hurts his hand too much. His hand just isn't quite strong enough to catch a ball that got hit going 97 miles an hour."

"He used to be able to?"

"Something like that, yes. He was really good. Then he just threw all that goodness and obsession into being an investigator. So he's really good at that, too."

"I see." Sam looked at his hands, twining his fingers together. "Do you love him?"

Lindsay looked a little shocked at the question. "Yes. Very much. Why do you ask?"

"Because you look like you love him. He loves you, too, doesn't he?"

"Well, I hope so," Lindsay joked.

"His eyes go darker when he looks at you. They go a darker blue. Like someone added gray to his eyes. I don't have that colour paint, but I wish I did. It's a nice colour."

Lindsay tried to ignore the fact that a seven year-old boy was making her blush.

"It's funny, though, because they're lighter, too. As if he turned on a light behind his eyes, you know? I'm not explaining this very well."

"No, Sam, I think you've got it just right."

"Will you tell me something?"

"Sure," Lindsay didn't ask why Sam had changed the subject so abruptly.

"Tell me what happened in Montana."

"I had to go there to testify. You remember what that's like, right?" He nodded in answer to her question.

"I didn't like it. Did you?" He went back to watching the game, but she knew he was listening intently to every word.

"I didn't get the chance. I wouldn't have liked to, though. I had forgotten something very important."

"What do you mean?"

"I had forgotten there were two people doing the things I had seen."

"Oh. I understand. Like me thinking that Stewart looked like Kinsen even though he didn't." He started watching her, now, instead of the game.

"Yes, exactly like that."

"Did you fall in love with Danny in Montana?"

"No. I loved him before that. I just didn't want to."

"Why not? I thought being in love was a good feeling." Sam's face was perplexed, his eyes questioning.

"I thought he might get hurt if I loved him. He did get hurt." Lindsay's answer was careful.

"But he got better because you loved him. He couldn't get better without you."

"Yes, that's probably true. Why are you asking this, Sam?"

"I'm curious," he shrugged.

"That's an easy answer."

"It is, isn't it?" He smiled now, slipping his hand into hers.

"Now it's your turn to tell me something."

"What do you mean?"

"I had to tell you something. Fair's fair." She grinned.

"Okay," he shrugged, thinking for a minute. "Carolyn phoned my house."

"Carolyn?"

"The lady who says she's my mother. She's not, but she says she is. She phoned again yesterday."

"Did you talk to her?"

"Yes. I answered the phone. She said she wanted to talk to me, but I said I didn't have to talk to her, and that she wasn't allowed to talk to me, anyhow. There was a funny buzzing noise, and it took her a few seconds to answer when I said something, like on the news, when the corres… correspondent? When he takes a minute to answer. I said I didn't want her to talk to me, and I hung up the phone and then unplugged it so she couldn't phone back." His eyes were dark with anger.

"She's not allowed to talk to you? What do you mean, Sam?"

"The judge said she's not allowed. Most of what happened that day wasn't easy to understand, but I understood that. She's not allowed to talk to me. Not ever. Well," he amended, "not until I'm eighteen. And then it's my choice. Not hers."

"But she phoned? Sam, has she phoned you before?" Lindsay kept her voice curious, not interrogative, but her eyebrows creased marginally as she took in this confession.

"Not me. I think my mum has talked to her. She said the same things I did to someone on the phone, anyway."

"When was that?"

"I dunno. Last week, maybe. Hey, there's Danny!" Sam leaped onto the ground to run to the stairs, taking one hotdog and a can of Orange Crush from Danny's full hands, and making his way back to his seat next to Lindsay. Danny threw her a smile as he passed over a Coke, taking a massive bite of the hamburger in his other hand. She grinned back as he adjusted the beat-up old baseball cap, which was creeping over his eyes.

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

"Mac?" Lindsay stuck her head through the door.

"Lindsay, come on in," Mac graced her with a rare smile.

"Danny got a confession out of our failed execution shooter," Lindsay reported. "We've also got a CODIS hit on our next case, the kidnapping victim with the coke OD? Hopefully that'll come through. Flack's gone to pick him up."

"Is that all, Lindsay?"

"No." Lindsay sat down, surprising Mac a little. "I'm a little worried about Sam."

"How do you mean?"

"He says he talked to Carolyn."

"He talked to Carolyn? What did she say? Did she tell him where she was?" Suddenly Mac was dreadfully alert.

"He said that the phone was buzzing and it took a minute for her to answer. He told her that he didn't want to talk to her, and he hung up. He unplugged the phone, too. He's mad about it, Mac. He thinks she's hurting his mum." Lindsay's mouth was tight, controlled.

Mac sighed then, rubbing tired eyes with shaking fingers. "Damn! I hoped I could find her before she talked to him."

"You knew she was phoning?"

Mac inclined his head briefly. "She's been calling for over a month now. Elena mentioned it in passing, and Sam spoke to Adam about it. I didn't know that he'd talked to her, though."

"He said it was only a couple of days ago."

"Lindsay, will you get Danny and Stella? Sheldon and Adam, too. I think we need to have a council of war."

Lindsay nodded, already walking out the door, her phone out as she hit the speed dial for Danny's phone.

Less than an hour later, the team had dragged themselves to Mac's office.

"What's up, Mac?" Sheldon asked.

"Carolyn is calling Sam." Mac ignored Stella's quick intake of breath. "She's only talked to him once, but she's talked to Elena numerous times. She's not in the state."

"How do you know?" Adam sat looking intently at his clasped hands.

"I called in a few favours. She's not in any major city, and she feels above anything less. She seems to be not only out of state, but out of country."

"Oh yeah?" Danny raised his eyebrows, pushing his glasses up his nose as they slid down.

"Stewart said the family has a house in Jamaica."

Stella was frowning, her fingers almost visibly itching for a pen. Mac tossed one to her, nodding at the whiteboard in the corner of his office.

"When did you speak to Stewart?" Sheldon asked suddenly.

"Last week. When Adam let me know that Sam was worried, and my sources weren't giving me the info I needed, I tried him. He hasn't seen Carolyn for four months."

Stella frowned again, turning away from the board. "Wait, she's been gone four months and only started calling Sam--"

"Two months ago," Mac answered.

"That doesn't make any sense, Mac."

He sighed, "I know. I know it doesn't. I couldn't get any more information out of Stewart, even though I tried."

"Does Elena have caller ID?" Adam asked.

"Not that I know of. She doesn't seem to know it's me when I call, anyway," Mac said after a moment's thought.

"I'll go see if there's a tracer I can use on her phone number," Adam said, jumping up. "If she's been getting phone calls from out of the country, I should be able to find it.

"Thanks, Adam." Adam ducked out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Mac watched Stella adding a few things to the whiteboard in her neat, even writing. If only they had a more precise time than "late April" and "end of June."

"What else do you want done, Mac?" Danny asked, pushing his glasses up to rub his eyes.

"See if you can find her, guys. I need to find her before she finds Sam."

"I think you might be too late on that, Mac," Lindsay said seriously, leaning forward. "If she's phoning, she must know where he lives, where he goes to school, what he does after school. She must know it all, or she wouldn't be calling."

"I know."

"Can we set up a uniform to watch him?"

"No," it was Stella who answered, "if someone gets back to Carolyn about uniforms, she'll slink off and we'll never get her."

Mac nodded, rubbing his eyes again.

"Okay, team, get back to your cases, but think about this, okay? None of us want anything to happen to Sam." Stella waited until the rest of the team had left, then rounded on Mac.

"And you? Go to bed. When's the last time you slept, Mac?"

"I got a couple of hours last night."

"I'm not having Peyton rip my throat out because you're overworking. Go to sleep. Even just a couple of hours on the couch, Mac. Please."

"Okay. Tell Peyton what we've got together when she gets here, would you?" Stella nodded, briskly shutting the blinds around Mac's open office, and hitting the lights as she walked out the door.

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

"Mac?" Peyton's voice was soft.

He groaned and rolled over on the couch. "How long have I been out?"

"Only about two hours," she answered, brushing her fingers against his forehead. "Stella says I have to take you home, now."

"I have so much to do…"

"You always do, Mac. It can wait."

"It can't really," Mac said, but she knew he'd already given up.

"Come on. You need a full eight hours and a decent meal. When's the last time you ate?"

"I can't remember."

"Up. Now. We're leaving."

He groaned again, but raised himself up on his elbows to kiss her quickly.

"Okay."

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

"Sam?"

"Yeah?" Sam pulled himself out of his reverie, looking over at Jake.

"Do you know that guy?" Jake gestured off to the side. Sam glanced over, trying to remember everything he'd been taught by Danny, Don and Mac. Tall, but not as tall as Don. Dark hair, or maybe just unwashed, under a greasy ball cap. Clean shaven, at odds with the dirty clothes he wore. Dark glasses, unusual, due to the overcast sky. Jeans, a once white tee shirt, a zip up hooded sweater.

"No. Why?"

"'Cause he's watching you."

Sam glanced up again, now feeling the man's eyes burning into him.

"Have you seen him before?" He tried to sound casual, but his voice squeaked a little.

Jake shrugged. "I don't think so. Come on, let's go home, he's giving me the creeps."

Sam nodded. "Race you to my house. Mum's making cookies."

The two boys took off, not noticing the man pull a disposable cell phone from his pocket.

"I found him."


	13. Chapter 13

_Disclaimer: No infringement of copyright intended. All original characters belong to the creators of CSI: NY._

_A/N: As always, thanks to my faithful reviewers, and to all those reading this story. Hold tight, the ride is just beginning!_

Chapter 13

The Boy Falls

"You're sure?"

"It couldn't be anyone else."

"Good. Keep an eye on him." Carolyn closed the phone, gloating for a moment. She opened an internet browser and finished her plane reservations.

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

"Sam?"

"What?"

"Is that one of the cops?"

Sam spared her only a cursory glance, his eyes going cold. "Maybe. But I'll catch you up. Don't wait for me. Okay?"

"Oh. Okay." Jake waved and left, looking over his shoulder at them. Sam wasn't sure if he felt bad about lying to Jake or not. He knew that she wasn't a cop. He also knew he wanted to know what she wanted. And that he'd only find out by going with her. Squaring his shoulders, he opened the car door and got in.

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

Absently, Mac glanced at the clock as his pager beeped at him. Five o'clock, who on earth would be calling him at five o'clock?

"Taylor."

"Mac?" Elena sounded a little hysterical and a lot desperate. "Do you have Sam?"

"No. Why?"

"He didn't come home from school today."

"I'm on my way, Elena, sit tight." Mac cut off her protests and hit one on his keypad.

"Bonasera."

"Stell, do you have Sam?"

"No."

"Meet me at Elena's, call Don. Ask him." Mac hung up before she could ask any questions. After a seconds thought, he hit two.

"Dr. Driscoll."

"Peyton, it's me."

"Mac. What's wrong? You sound tense."

"Do you have Sam?"

"No, of course not. Why? What's wrong?"

"He's not at home. Meet me there?"

"As soon as I can." She hung up first this time.

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

"Flack."

"It's me, Don."

"Stella, what's up?"

"Do you have Sam?"

"No. Why? Should I? Am I late to get him?"

"No. Call Danny, ask him. Meet me at Elena's."

"Will do."

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

"Sheldon, it's Mac."

"Hi Mac--"

"Do you have Sam?"

"No."

"Call Adam. Meet us at Elena's."

"Okay."

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

"This is Messer."

"Danno, do you have Sam today?"

"Nah, I think he's with his parents, why?"

"He's not. Call Linds. Meet us at Elena's."

"Shit. Okay."

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

"Adam."

"It's Sheldon,"

"Oh, man, your tests aren't run yet, but they're getting there, I promise. There's some weird trace on the gum you found on the floor, but I haven't analyzed it under the--"

"I don't care about the tests, Adam."

"What? Why?"

"Is Sam there?"

"At the lab? 'Course not."

"Come to Elena's. He's missing."

"What!?" But he was speaking to a dial tone.

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

"Hi Danny."

"Dumb question."

"S'all right, you've warned me."

"Do you have Sam?"

"No. You know we don't take him Tuesdays."

"Come to Elena's. I don't think any of us do."

"Sam is missing?"

"Looks like it."

"I'm coming, babe. Keep her calm."

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

"Reed's phone. Leave a message if you've got anything worth printing."

"Reed, it's Mac. Sam's missing. I need your help. Please come to Elena's or call me. Whichever. Let Natalie know." Mac agonized over how to end the message. He knew what he wanted to say, but there was no way he could. "See you," he finished lamely, and closed the pager.

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

Elena was busily making everyone coffee when Lindsay arrived, with Stella seconds behind her. They walked in the door, exchanging a quick look. Stella nodded, and gently took Elena's arm, leading her into the kitchen. Lindsay shook her head when Danny raised a questioning eyebrow, following Stella.

"Okay, Elena, it's okay. We're all here now. We can find him," Stella soothed, rubbing the younger woman's back as she cried.

"Are you… are you s-sure?"

"Yes. We will find him. And get rid of whoever took him." Lindsay's voice was cold steel wrapped in silk. Without thinking, she grabbed the kettle, filled it with water and put it on the stove. "Teapot, Elena?" Elena just pointed blindly at a cupboard.

Stella looked at her oddly. Without saying anything, Lindsay held out her hands, which were shaking in anger and fear. Stella nodded, her eyes terrifying to behold.

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

"Elena," Mac said in his gentlest voice. "We need to know exactly when he went missing. It will help us find him."

"I don't know. He didn't come home from school. He walks with Jake, most days. But I didn't see either of them, Jake usually comes here for a snack."

"Where's Jake's house?" Flack asked intently.

"Two down."

"Left or right?" Danny's voice was softer than Flack's, but just as angry.

"Left."

"Coming, Flack?"

"Right behind you, Danno."

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

"Hello, Mrs. Fairbairn?" She didn't open the screen door, looking at the two young men on her stoop with barely contained suspicion. The tall, dark one was talking. "I'm Detective Flack, this is Detective Messer."

As one, both cops flashed their badges.

"We're friends of Elena Martinez," the short one added.

"Are you now? You wanna prove that?"

"Listen, ma'am. Sam's missing. It seems someone took him from school. We would just like to talk to Jake, maybe he saw something?"

Her defenses crumbled in a second. "Sam? Sam's missing? Oh my God. How could that happen?"

"I don't know, ma'am. That's why we wondered if we could talk to Jake. We want to find him as soon as we can."

"Please, Detectives, come in." She unlatched the screen door hastily, and called her son downstairs.

"Hi Jake, I'm Danny. I think we've met before." Jake nodded soberly. It wasn't possible for him to look less like Sam. Hair only an inch long, blond as wheat, eyes blue as the ocean, skinny as a rail and a foot shorter than his best friend. "This is my friend Don."

Solemnly, Jake shook Flack's hand.

"I knew she wasn't a police officer."

"Who wasn't, Jake?"

"The lady who picked up Sam today."

Danny and Don exchanged darkly significant looks.

"What did she look like?"

"All I saw was blond hair. Sam wasn't scared though. He walked right up to the car and got in. I thought she was a friend."

"Did Sam act like he knew her?"

"Kind of. He looked kind of mad. He said he'd catch up, so I walked slow. But he didn't catch up, and he didn't phone later."

"Thanks, Jake. You've been a huge help."

"You're welcome."

"Detectives?" Erin Fairbairn stood by the door, her eyes wide. "Do you know who took him?"

"I have a suspicion or two," Danny grumbled under his breath.

"We'll find her, Mrs. Fairbairn. We'll find her."


	14. Chapter 14

_Disclaimer: No infringement of copyright intended. All original characters belong to CSI: NY._

_A/N: An apology to all my faithful readers is due, I'm sorry it's taken forever to get this chapter up, but that's what starting a new job will do for you. I hope this chapter makes it up to you somewhat, and I promise another update will be coming soon. (Although not too soon, Harry Potter opens this week. Sorry, obsessions don't co-mingle very well.)_

Chapter 14

Just Like That, the Boy is Gone

And in His Place, a Man

-Johnny Depp as James Barrie (Finding Neverland)

_Not running. He stood, staring about. Why wasn't he running? He looked behind him, expecting to see something. What? He couldn't remember._

"_Hello?"_

_Nothing._

"_Hello?"_

_Still nothing. Sam shrugs and walks down the long museum corridor. It is darker than he remembers. Longer, too. He hears footsteps and stops._

"_Hello?"_

_No answer. The footsteps have stopped, too. He continues to walk, a little faster this time, a little scared. The other footsteps start again. He stops walking, and the footsteps also stop. He spins around, but no one is near him._

_He starts running full out down the hallway, and distantly hears the other footsteps speed up behind him._

"_Sam!" The voice comes from in front of him. It's a familiar voice._

"_Mac! Mac, help me!" He's crying now, tears blurring his vision, making him stumble over his own feet._

"_Sam, stop running!" He obeys, stopping as soon as he is able._

"_Mac, where are you?"_

_  
But the voice is gone, and the footsteps behind him are closer. Slowly, as if in a dream, he turns._

"_Finally, I thought you would run forever!" It's Lindsay's voice, but somehow… wrong._

"_Lindsay?"_

"_Of course, who else would it be?"_

_He relaxes in an instant, peering into the gloom of the museum, trying to see her._

"_Lindsay? Where's Mac? Where'd he go?"_

_But her voice does not answer him._

"_There you are!" His arms are taken in a vice-like grip, he struggles, screams, tries to kick and bite, but the hands holding him are too strong._

"_What do you want!" he screams in desperation._

"_Just you."_

_He looks up._

"_Carolyn?"_

"Carolyn?"

"Yes, Sam? What would you like?"

He shudders from the memory of the dream, and then realizes it's not a dream, she is there speaking to him.

"Sam? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Bad dream. That's all." He answers shortly, and closes his eyes, hoping she'll believe he's gone back to sleep.

_**What'd I do? Why did I go with her? I don't know where we are or how to get home and I can't call for back up. Oh, mum. Mum, can't you help me?  
**_

He feels the car slow, then stop. He opens one eye, the eye furthest from Carolyn, and tries to make out a landmark.

"Where are we?"

"A café. I thought you might be hungry." Carolyn reaches across and unsnaps his seat belt. "You can have something to eat if you promise no funny stuff."

"I'm not hungry."

"I am. Come on, Sam."

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

"Would you like a cookie, Sam? A slice of cake?" Carolyn waved at the server in the little café they'd stopped at just over the border.

"No." Sam was careful to speak as little as he could, trying to remember everything Mac had taught him about watching. _'It's important to know things, Sam. It's important to see the answers before they tell you.'_

"Are you sure? You've had nothing to eat."

"I'm not hungry." He watched her face harden, her eyes piercing him like a butterfly on a card. He was starving, but he wouldn't admit it. Not to her.

"So what do you want?" He asked, sitting back and taking a sip of water through the bendy straw.

"What do you mean, Sam?" Her face had softened again, but Sam could see the ice in her eyes.

"You must want something, or you wouldn't have come to pick me up." _Never forget they want to tell you, Sammy boy. _Don said in his head. _They want to tell you everything. They want someone to care. Pretend you don't care and they'll tell you everything you need to know._

"I just wanted to talk."

"So talk." He took another sip of water to hide his smile at seeing a flash of annoyance on her features.

"How is school?"

"No."

"No?"

"You don't want to talk to me about school. Either talk about what you want to talk about or take me home. To my mother." He almost enjoyed the small grimace of pain in her eyes at that word.

"A bright one, aren't you?" She snapped, then looked appalled at how she'd let him get to her.

"I've spent a lot of time with cops. I know how you're supposed to talk to bad guys."

"You think I'm a bad guy?" To his surprise, he saw tears well in her eyes. Resolutely, he nodded.

"Yes. It's because of you Aunt Ceci is dead. It's because of you Stewart knew about me, wanted to take me away from my parents. It's because of you I had to testify and talk to a judge. It's because of you I thought I was going to be taken away from my parents. Tell me one good thing you did."

"I loved you," she said without hesitation.

"No. You didn't. You just love the idea of me." Sam felt tears close to spilling over his eyelids, but he raised his chin and blinked the tears away. "You never loved me, not really."

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

"Lindsay."

"What?" She furiously rubbed the sleep from her eyes, mortified at having been caught napping.

"Lindsay, you need to go home. You put in a double shift already today. You need to sleep." It was Stella speaking, quietly, comfortingly.

"No," she disagreed. "I need to find Sam. I can't leave, Stell."

"We all want to find Sam, kiddo. But we need to take care of ourselves first."

"I'm good now. How long did I sleep?"

"Only about an hour."

"That's enough. What have we found?"

Stella looked at the younger woman and sighed. She knew that face. She decided not to fight anymore.

"Jake says that someone came and picked up Sam. A woman with blond hair. Because so many people have been picking up Sam in the past couple of months, he didn't really think twice about it, until Sam didn't call him."

"Blond hair? It must be Carolyn, then."

"Lindsay, that's not even evidence without context. That's context without evidence."

Lindsay jumped to her feet and started pacing, gnawing on her bottom lip in thought. "But it fits, Stell. Carolyn's been calling the house for months. She's talked to both Elena and Sam. We know she was out of the country. But it's easy to get back in, she's an American citizen."

"And where would she take Sam that she could get away with? She doesn't have his birth certificate…" Stella's voice trailed off as the colour drained from her face.

"Of course she does." Lindsay whispered. "We only found adoption papers, not a birth certificate. That's how she took him. She's gone across the border."

"Wait. We need to talk to Elena first."

Lindsay was already walking back into the kitchen.

"Elena." The older woman's face was haggard as she turned to the officers in her kitchen.

"Yes?" She tried to smile, but failed miserably.

"Sam's birth certificate, who has it?"

"Well, we have one. We had to get another one. You can't believe how difficult it is. But we finally got it after the… oh my God."

Lindsay was nodding unhappily. "Carolyn had the original, didn't she?"

Elena nodded, tears forming in her eyes.

"And she won't need a parental signature, because it lists her as the parent, doesn't it?"

"Of course it does, she did give birth to him." Stella rubbed her eyes. "I'm going to tell the boys."

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

"Where are we?" Sam asked. Carolyn had unceremoniously tossed him back into the car.

"We're in Canada. Niagara Falls. We'll be in Toronto soon."

"We're in Canada?"

"Yes. I just said that," she snapped.

"Why?"

"Because your friends can't find you here."

"Why?" Sam felt his heart sink.

"They have no jurisdiction here."

"Why?"

"Because they're not federal agents. And this is another country, anyway."

"Why does that matter?"

"Because it does, all right?"

"But why?"

"Sam," she said, dangerously quietly, "shut up."

Uncharacteristically, he did. He sat staring out the window and wondering what he'd gotten himself into.

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

"Don."

"Yeah?" He glanced up at her, his eyes softening in his tired face.

"We think we know where she went."

"Where?" Danny jumped up, grey with exhaustion.

"Canada."

"How." Mac's voice was almost slurring with a drunken fatigue.

"She has his birth certificate."

"Oh, God." Mac groaned, his face blenching.

"Exactly."

"Where'd you think she'd go?"

"The only place close enough. Canada, where else?"

Mac struggled to his feet, swaying slightly. "I'm calling."

"Mac," Peyton interrupted him. "You're all dead on your feet. You all need to sleep. It's been hours. Call and then all of you are sleeping if I have to sedate you."

"But Peyton," Don, Danny and Mac all started to protest, but she raised her hand.

"None of you will be any help unless you rest. Please, Mac."

He grimaced and nodded. "She's right. She's right."

Elena walked into the living room. "Mac. I have room. You can stay here, if you need to. If you want to."

Wearily, he smiled. "Elena, you are a treasure. Thank you."

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

It took less time than anyone had thought to fall onto beds, air mattresses, couches. By unspoken agreement, Mac and Peyton were given the only bed available. Don and Stella grabbed the queen size air mattress, Danny and Lindsay curled up on the tiny couch. Adam and Sheldon were quickly set up with more air mattresses, Adam asleep before Elena had even handed him a sleeping bag.

Lindsay lay awake in Danny's arms, trying not to think about how Sam must be feeling. Did he know they were coming after him as quickly as they could? Was he scared? Did he think they had abandoned him? Why, why had he gotten into that car in the first place?

It was not long before the whole house had fallen into an uneasy sleep.

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

"Where are we now?"

"A condo owned by my parents." Her answers were getting shorter, angrier.

"Why?"

"Because I need to sleep. As do you."

"Oh. Okay." Sam hadn't wanted to admit how tired he was, but his words were cut off by a huge yawn.

"Get out of the car, Sam."

"I don't have any pajamas," he protested sleepily as she led him to a small room.

"There are some on the bed. I bought them before coming to pick you up. Good night." Quickly, she turned on her heel and left him. Wearily, he climbed into the worn Superman pajamas, and crawled into the bed. He was so tired he almost didn't think of how much he wished he was home. _**Home.**_ His face screwed up, and he quickly turned into the pillow, hoping it would muffle the sound of his crying.

_**Home.**_

_**Mum.**_


	15. Chapter 15

_Disclaimer: All original characters belong to CSI: NY. I promise to give them back._

_A/N: An apology to all reading/reviewing/enjoying this story. The voices are, hopefully, back. I promise to wrap things up soon. Feel free to leave me a note as long as you aren't going to yell at me for how long this has taken. (lol). Thank you thank you thank you to all who've been waiting._

Chapter 15

Men Don't Cry

Sam woke early, sitting straight up and frantically trying to remember where he was. A fragile plan had been brewing during the twilight hours between sleeping and waking, and he had to make sure no one else was awake. Quietly, walking on the balls of his feet, he crept down the stairs, stopping frequently at the hint of another sound.

There was a telephone in the small living room. He walked through the room, still cautious, still quiet, still pausing. He hoped, prayed, that Carolyn's bedroom was upstairs – he had not seen her go to bed, so he had no idea.

It seemed to take hours to lift the receiver. He dialed Mac's number: 555 6228. It rang twice and a recorded female voice interrupted the third ring, saying: "I'm sorry, all local calls in the Toronto region require their given area code. Please try again with the proper area code." Sam frowned, carefully hanging up the phone. He remembered seeing a 905 number on the pay phone outside the café, and tried that area code. It seemed to take hours for the phone to ring. Twice, three times, four times, until Sam was about to hang up.

"Hello?" the voice at the other end of the phone was groggy with sleep.

"Hello, I'm looking for Detective Mac Taylor."

"I'm sorry, son, you have the wrong number."

"Wh-what? No. This is Mac's number." Sam felt his face getting red.

"I'm sorry, it's not. This is the Gower's residence."

Sam couldn't believe his ears. He tried to keep from crying as he apologized for disturbing them so early and hung up the phone.

He ran back up the stairs, heedless of the sound he was making, and leapt back into bed. He was at a dead end. He lay curled under the covers, shaking with his sobs.

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

"Hello, Greater Toronto Regional Police Department, how may I help you?"

"Hello, this is Michael Gower. Earlier this morning, I had a phone call from a very distressed little boy looking for Detective Mac Taylor. Is that name familiar?"

"I'm sorry, it's not, sir. May I take your name and number and get back to you?"

"The number he called from is on my call display, it's a 905 number. Let me check." A moment of silence. "905 555-2276. If this Detective Taylor needs the number, that's it."

"Thank you, sir. I'll be sure to let you know what happens."

"Thank you." Politely, Mr. Gower hung up, and feeling he had done the right thing, crawled back into bed with his wife, forgetting the incident the instant he closed his eyes.

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

"Lindsay. Wake up, we've got to get back to work." Danny smiled down at her, smoothing her hair off her forehead before leaning down and kissing her gently.

"Did yesterday really happen?" Lindsay asked sleepily, her eyes still closed. "I had hoped it was a nightmare."

"Yeah, babe. It happened. It's okay, we'll fix it. We'll find him now we've got some sleep in us."

"Damn. How is Elena bearing?"

"She's tougher than she looks. But I think she could use a good breakfast that she doesn't need to make herself. Come on, let's see what we can find." He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

Lindsay nodded, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and raising on her elbows, kissed him gently.

"What was that for?"

"Because I have you," she smiled against his lips, kissing him again before sitting up and pushing him out of her way.

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

Peyton was the hero of the hour, running out before anyone else had even stirred and grabbing a loaf of bread, eggs, bacon, tomatoes and mushrooms. And eight toothbrushes, and a tube of toothpaste.

"You are a true lifesaver," Mac kissed her cheek gently, rolling up his rumpled shirt sleeves. "Let's get some food in us and then find our boy, okay?"

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

"Inspector Douglass?"

"Yes, Sandra, what is it?" Mark Douglass didn't bother to look up.

"I've just received a very strange phone call. Do you know a Detective Mac Taylor?"

Douglass glanced up from his paperwork quickly, his Scottish blue eyes piercing. "Who called about Mac Taylor?" He asked quietly.

"Michael Gower. He said a boy called him this morning asking for the Detective. He said the boy was very distressed upon learning that the Detective was not at that number. Who is he?"

"Head of CSI in New York city." Douglass leaned back, running his hand through his sparse red hair reflectively.

"Oh my God. That Mac Taylor?"

"Yeah. Can't think of anyone else it could be."

"Here's the number the boy called from. This is Mr. Gower's number. Maybe he just got the area code wrong?"

"I'll call. Thanks, Sandra. Let's figure out what the hell is going on."

He waited until she left his office before grabbing the cord phone on his desk and calling the New York City police department.

"Hello? I'm looking for Detective Mac Taylor. Yes. This is Inspector Douglass of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police in Toronto, Canada. It's urgent I speak with him. Ah. I see. Is there a mobile number you are permitted to give me? Yes. Thank you, I understand. Thank you. No, no message." He hung up, wiped his brow in frustration, and looked at the page Sandra had left him.

"Hmm… I wonder." He grabbed the phone again, carefully dialing the Gower's number with the New York area code he'd just looked up.

"Hello, this is Inspector Mark Douglass with the RCMP in Toronto, Canada. Is this Mac Taylor?"

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

Mac stood motionless with his pager pushed against his ear so hard he thought it might bleed.

"Yes, this is Mac Taylor. Give me a moment, may I put you on speaker phone? Thank you."

Mac signaled to his team to gather round the kitchen table.

"Okay, Inspector, please go ahead."

The Inspector's voice was distinctly tinny, with a hint of Scottish brogue still sitting in his 'r's.

"This morning, local citizen Michael Gower received a phone call at about six-thirty. He said a young boy asked for Mac Taylor and became distressed when told the number was incorrect. Mr. Gower called our office shortly after eight o'clock this morning, related the story."

"What is the number called from?"

"Mr. Gower's call display said" - there was a sound of flipping pages - "905 555 2276. 905 is a Toronto number, but it's the outlying regions."

"Is it possible to find the exact location that call came from?" Danny asked.

"I'm sorry?"

"Sorry, Inspector. Detective Danny Messer. Can you tell us the cross street location of that phone number?"

"It's possible to have it done, but I can't guarantee how long. What's going on here."

"Inspector," Mac's voice was iron hard and dangerously quiet. "The boy was abducted from school yesterday. He and I are… close. I would appreciate any help you can give us on his whereabouts."

"I'll see what I can find and be in touch. The number here is 905 555 7267, ask for me." The line went dead.

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

No one spoke for a long moment.

"He's okay." Lindsay breathed. "He's okay. We'll find him. Thank God."

Elena burst into tears. "He's all right. Thank God. Dé gracias a Dios. He's okay."

"What are we waiting for," Adam asked, running his hands through his hair, making it stick up in all directions. "Let's go find him! We have everything I need to find him!"

Mac nodded decisively. "Peyton, Stella, can you stay here, please? Sheldon, you too. I'll call if I need any of you. Adam, you need a computer. We're going to the lab. Danny and Lindsay, I need you to be making phone calls. Make sure we have jurisdiction before we go up there. Don, I need you to start talking with Douglass, make sure he understands the situation. You're better at the politics."

As one, the team nodded, Peyton and Stella supporting Elena, who had given up on standing.

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

"Sam? Breakfast time." Carolyn's honeyed voice came floating through the door.

"I'm not hungry!" Sam shouted from under the covers.

"Come on, there's pancakes. You didn't eat at all yesterday. Come eat something, please."

"I don't want anything to eat! Go away!"

Carolyn slammed the door open. "Come and eat right now, Sam. I'm counting to five, and then I'm dragging you out of bed."

It was strange that the same threat from his mother was so innocuous. The same words heard a million times was terrifying coming out of the mouth of this woman.

"Fine," Sam said, throwing back the covers. He'd given up on crying hours ago. "I'll eat. Whatever."

Carolyn took his arm with her long fingers and spiky feeling fingernails, leading him into the kitchen.

"Sit there." She put a plate of blueberry pancakes in front of him. "Eat." As he started to do so, she smiled.

_**Mum. What am I supposed to do? Mac… Mac, where are you? **_Stubbornly, he refused to cry again.


	16. Chapter 16

_A/N: I know, incredibly long wait. Hope this gets you closer to the end. Thanks to all who are still waiting._

Chapter 16

The Furies

"Mac, good news," Danny's voice was out of breath as he speed-walked down the hall. "As far as I can tell, this counts as hot pursuit, so even if they catch us, they can't stop us. Not only that, Hague Convention specifies guardians as according to their "right of custody," not to their biological link. Of course, Canada signed that piece of paper right away. There should be nothing impeding us."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Don says that Inspector Douglass is prepared to offer whatever it takes to get the boy back."

"Good, that's good. Has Adam found the cross-street yet?"

"I dunno, I'll have him call you."

"Thanks, Danny."

"We'll get him back, Mac. We're in hot pursuit, right? There's no other option." Danny hung up, slipping his phone back in the pocket of yesterday's jeans. "Adam!"

Adam spun around, his phone clutched in his hand. "Oh, I was just leaving you a voicemail," he said into the phone. He blushed and hung up. "I found him. He's not that far from the airport. And I got us tickets. Not enough for all of us, there were only six seats available, but we leave at quarter past four."

"Good job, man," Danny said, slapping the younger man on the shoulder. "Call Mac, he'll want to know."

Adam nodded, still blushing, and started scrolling through his phone numbers to find Mac as he walked away.

Danny slowed walking down the hallway, leaning his forehead against the cool wooden door of the office he shared with Lindsay.

"Danny, you okay?" He felt cool hands sliding around his waist, turning him.

"We've got him, Montana. We're qualified hot pursuit. Nothin' she can do."

"Good. It's about time. When are we going?" The brief flicker of triumph over her exhausted face made him smile.

"Adam got six seats. It leaves just after four. I dunno who Mac'll want with him."

"Come on, babe. Let's head back to Elena's. We'll get our marching orders there."

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

"Okay, team. Here's what we'll need to do." Mac rubbed his hand over his eyes. "First off, who's going to Toronto?"

"Well, Elena and Jose, obviously," Adam yawned.

"And you," Peyton supplied.

"And Peyton?" Danny asked. She shrugged.

"I don't think there'll be much call for an ME," she said, tapping her knuckles against the wooden coffee table. "If anything, Mac, you should take the boys with you."

"Okay, Danny, Don, you're with me. Stell and Lindsay, battle it out." Mac grinned tightly at them.

"Stell, you go. I'll stay here."

"You sure, kiddo?"

Lindsay nodded. "I'll be here if you need me, ready to jump on the next plane. Just make sure you keep in contact, okay?" Her eyes found Danny's, quietly pleading. He nodded, leaning forward and kissing her gently.

"Let's go, Mac."

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

The plane was cramped, small and shuddering over the border. Danny and Don sat, eyes closed, breathing steady, pretending to sleep. Pretending that they were calm, that nothing could go wrong, for Elena's benefit.

Stella sat reading the paper, eyes unfocused, words blurred. It seemed that for the first time since childhood, she prayed. Prayed with no self-conciousness or anger or distrust. Just prayed. _God. Let us find him. Let us find him and bring him home._ Over and over again, the words shouted in her mind.

Mac slept. There was a kind of comfort in knowing that, for this hour and sixteen minutes, nothing could go wrong. For this hour and sixteen minutes, no one would phone him, or demand more of him than he was able to give. His dreams were untroubled, if nothing else, the Marines had taught him that.

Jose and Elena sat in silence, gaze locked on the ground out the window. Elena mouthed Our Fathers and Hail Marys, a sound of breath more than words. Jose said nothing, sitting with fists clenched.

The hour stretched to years.

The plane descended.

The hunt was on.

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

Mac flashed his badge as they strode into the downtown RCMP office.

"Sir?"

He turned, facing a short young woman, cocking an eyebrow.

"Detective Taylor, sir?"

He nodded.

"This way, please. I'm Sandra, I'll take you to Inspector Douglass."

"Thank you."

He felt an odd sense of empowerment as Don and Danny moved up to flank him. It wasn't that he felt good bringing in a show of force, there was no one to belittle or intimidate here. He quickly shook away the thought that it was because he had these two relying on him, no questions asked, to get them out of this mess.

"Here he is."

Inspector Douglass was even more intimidating in person. He was past six feet, and built like a linebacker. His red hair was curly, his beard thick and full, his blue eyes electrifying.

"Inspector," Mac entered the room, hand extended. Douglass grasped him by the forearm rather than the hand, squeezing briefly. He repeated this with Don, Stella, and Danny, curtly nodding as they murmured their names. He carefully shook Elena's hand, and led her to a sofa in the corner of his office, seating Jose beside her. He waved his hand at the motley chairs scattered in front of his desk, inviting the rest of them to sit.

"We know where he is," Mac got to business as quickly as possible.

"As do we, Detective Taylor."

Mac raised a hand, "just Mac, thank you, Inspector."

Douglass nodded again. "We've had a few plain-clothes watching the house. They report that no one has come or left. I don't know whether that's a good thing or not. They've made a few discreet inquiries as well. The condo belongs to…" he glanced at his paperwork. "Ms. Astor's parents. That's the only thing impeding us from entering the premises or obtaining a warrant. They're taking forever."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, sir," Danny interrupted. "I just wanted to know… do we count as hot pursuit still? Even though we've come to see you? Because if that's true we don't need to wait for a warrant."

"That is true, but it also means you can't get back up. And we don't know if there's anyone else in the house."

"Sir," Don interjected. "I think Detective Messer and I can handle whatever we need to. What's most important is getting Sam."

"No," Douglass interrupted him. "What's most important is getting Sam unhurt. There's no guarantee of that if you and Detective Messer go in alone."

"Please, sir," Stella said quietly. "If I go in, I think there'll be little chance of anything. I don't believe Carolyn knows me, at least, I had little enough to do with her she might have forgotten. Could you get me a casserole of some kind?"

"Stell," Mac started, but she interrupted him.

"No, Mac. I know you want to go in guns blazing, but that's not going to help Sam. This time, she'll go to jail properly." Stella drew herself up, her lips white with determination and a hint of anger. "I know you love him, Mac," she continued quietly, "but so do the rest of us, and I won't put him in danger."

Don slid his hand over hers. "Okay, babe. If that's the way you want to do it, I'm coming with you."

"Don, that won't –"

"No arguing. Suit us up, Inspector."

"Mmm… glasses, I think, for you, Detective Flack," Douglass smiled.

CSI: NY – CSI: NY – CSI: NY

"Stell, I look like an idiot." Flack mumbled as they walked up the steps to the condo.

"Shut up, Donnie," Danny grinned into his mic. "The glasses suit you… and you should go for a side-part more often."

"Messer, I'll kill you, I will."

"Shh." Stella shoved the casserole into his hands and knocked politely. There was a tense silence, then the sound of footsteps coming to the door. "Smile," Stella whispered.

"Hello?" Carolyn opened the door, looking intrigued.

"Well hi, there. My husband and I noticed your car in the driveway and figured we'd give you a bit of a welcome back, but… goodness… you're not who I expected. You must be the daughter we've heard so much about." Stella hoped she'd spoken quickly enough to dispel any suspicion.

"Umm… thank you," Carolyn said, taking the casserole. "Um… won't you come in for… for a cup of tea?"

"Why, thank you," Flack said, slipping into the persona as well. He sniffed and slid his glasses higher on his nose. "I could go for one."

Douglass was sitting in the van with his fist stuffed in his mouth. "I don't know which is worse. The fact that they think Canadians act like that, or the fact she's buying it."

"Sam! Sam, come and meet some neighbours, would you?" Carolyn turned to the couple with a smile. "My son. He's a little shy."

Flack felt Stella tense beside him. She only hoped Sam would act as though they'd never met. Sam trudged around the corner, looking miserable. He glanced at Stella and Flack, his eyes lighting up, but cautious. He walked forward, his hand extended.

"Hello. My name is Sam. Who are you?"

"Goodness, what a polite boy. Pleased to meet you Sam. I'm Sherry, and this is my husband Rob." Stella took his hand gently, staring into his eyes, trying to tell him to keep playing along, that they would get him out of here.

"Hello, son," Flack chimed in.

"What kind of tea would you like?" Carolyn asked. "There's mostly blackberry, I think."

"Blackberry would be fine, thank you," Stella said, her eyes still on Sam. "Why don't I come help you with that?"

"Thank you," Carolyn said graciously, and led the way to the kitchen.

"Go get your shoes on, Sam. And grab whatever you need. We're leaving," Flack said. Sam nodded and, with exaggerated casualness, walked away.


End file.
